In Between
by NightAssassin
Summary: Everyone knows about THOSE two times that The Losers went to battle with It.But there was another time,only now remembered, only now lived.In a world where what the Losers do in the future will affect the past, It rules in Its created apocalypse.finished
1. PROLOUGE

(a/n: well, this is my first fanfiction on this site. Hope it's a good one!

And if you haven't yet read Stephen King's novel, It, then what are you waiting for?)

**3/24/09: I have changed the category. This website had moved it to the Dark Tower series. I feel that it fit better in the Stephan King books section than the movie version of It, but I feel also that it fits better in the movie version of It than the Dark Tower series. I do not plan on editing or changing my story, as it is several years old and I have quite forgotten the plot, but I feel that it deserves the correct category to age in. **

PROLOUGE

I wonder: where does this start? I'm certain that every man or woman with a story to tell has started with that single thought. Even though a beginning may seem to be clear-cut to the reader, the writer spent hours trying to find it, and may even now be still wonder if it even started there. Was it relevant? Does it matter? Should it be earlier? Later? I suppose that the best that any writer can do is to take a stab at the beginning, and hope that they can cut it off in time.

I write this now, for the first time in a long time, fully comfortable and relaxed, and happy that I am. These last months that have lasted ages (I still wonder if it only seemed that way or if it really was) have been filled with fear. Philosophers (who were also busy trying to save themselves during this time) are still musing over the many paradoxes laid out. I try not to think about those times any more. I still think that my mind will simply explode from the mingled grief and horror. All the same though, I find myself thinking about this more and more while remembering less and less.

Will I write this, beginning to end? I don't know. But I'm beginning to wonder now if I even have a choice. I have found myself recently, and even through the pain and terror, I still think that this last summer was one of the best of my life.

I suppose that I have found the beginning, or a beginning at least. There can only be one, and I guess that this one is my only choice.

I only pray that I can tell my story before it is too late and Its spell will be slow enough for my fingers to make a record. And maybe, just maybe then I can begin to really start over with the rest of them, even years later, and then maybe this nightmare can truly be over. For good.


	2. Chapter 1

PART ONE

CHAPTER ONE

Hunting is not only game for me. It is an art.

I suppose that any hunter may say this, but it bears repeating to anyone who has not left the comfort of their home with a bow slung over their shoulder and a quiver on their hip.  
Archery is the best form of hunting. I suppose I may be biased in saying so, I, having only decided to ever shoot with a bow, but if I thought that something was any better, would I have not taken that up instead? Almost every culture has some form of a bow and arrow. And the hunt is just more real then it is with a gun. You pick it up, draw back, and release, and the arrow will follow your eye's direction. The animal will die a death worthy of the forest. A gun? You pick it up and press a button in a series of quick, jerky motions, and then some animal is dead with pieces of mankind stuck in its belly.  
A shift in the underbrush; a slight movement. I turned: it was a buck. Moderately sized, was nothing special. All the same to me, and besides, I love the taste of venison. I carefully drew back, but then something familiar happened. This was something that made it impossible to shoot strait, and impossible to see well. I understood that it would be bad if it came in full force this time.  
This curse had not always lingered around me, but recently, at seemingly random times, the world would fade away, and all my senses shut down. It was like being in a coma, but I would remain standing in place, even performing a simple action, if I was already in the midst of doing one.  
"Please, not now," I begged silently, but whatever fate commands us is a cruel one. The last thing I saw was the dear's tail flick once as it ran off.

(a/n:It kinda starts out slow, I appologize for that. My next update will be soon, and that's when it will get started.)


	3. Chapter 2

When I woke up, I was still standing, still holding the arrow drawn fully back. I cried out softly at the pain in my shoulder, and left my arm drop and let the bow drop and the arrow fly. It flew off and hit something (and hard, by the sound of it), but I was fully wrapped up in agony. My arm and fingers had fallen asleep, but my shoulder seemed to have been injected with molten metal. I fumbled for my right pocked with my left hand and pulled out some painkillers. I had never really needed them, but the horror stories of what a single miss-shot in archery could lead to and a mild paranoia that something like this would happen had convinced me to bring them.

After about five minutes, I could see through the haze of pain, and after ten, I could think clearly. But I knew that it would be at least an hour before it faded completely. I picked up my bow and quiver, and left to search for my arrow.  
Where a tree or a rock should have been, a door stood, hinged in air. I dropped the bottle of I still had held loosely in my left hand, and the pills spilled out. My arrow lay in front of it, its tip burrowed within the remains of its shaft from the force of the impact. But I barely took note of that. A door! What was a door doing out here?  
I reached for the knob, first with my right hand, but when that sent a flare of pain up my arm, I tried again with my left hand. I reached slowly, as though I was worried that it would be hot. But I knew that I was really worried that it would be locked. I turned it freely, but did not open it. I let the knob go, and it turned on its own closed again, as all doors do when the springs held by tension is suddenly let go. I walked around the door, still not quite believing its existence. On the other side, it just…stopped. As I had walked around it, it was there…there…gone. Just like that. It was a one-sided door. I could see the trees and brush where the solid frame had just stood. Without thinking, I stepped through the back, where the door should have been.

When I looked at where I was, I seriously considered for the first time if I was dreaming.  
A door is something I can see everyday and I will accept, even if it is in midair. But I had never experienced anything like this. I was in midair. There was a creepy light highlighting everything. I could not miss it.

A turtle stood there, in the midst of what seemed to be mostly empty space. It was massive. I could only see its side. It was pointless to try to compare my size to it; it would be like trying to compare a single inch to the mass of the world. There probably were numbers, but it was impossible to wrap one's mind around it. The Turtle's shell was adorned with colors of billions of galaxies, slowly shifting and turning.

A second glace told me something that had somehow escaped my attention. It was in pain. If I hadn't known that it was, then I think I just might have turn and ran into space forever. As it was, I wanted to help it. I could only hope that it wouldn't roll over, as I would surely be crushed.

As I started walking, I found that my feet would always hit what felt like ground but looked like emptiness. I walked on nothing to face the turtle, feeling dizzier and more surreal with each step I took. After several minutes of walking (at this point it felt more like a dream then the hard reality that I felt earlier), I could see the Turtle's profile. I realized that I must have not been at its side, but a lot nearer to its head, as hours of walking couldn't have brought me this far from dead center.  
'This must just be a dream,' I thought calmly. 'I'll play along.'  
It (Marten, some voice whispered to me, the turtle's name is Marten) turned to face me. Had this been anything but a dream, whirlwinds would have surely blown me off my feet from the sheer mass of its movement.

But as we stared at each other, I realized that this wasn't a dream. My shoulder had started to burn again, and the surrealism passed. This was real; oh God, this was real.  
'Haven't 'choo ever seen a door before, child?' It asked in my mind. Its voice was so all-encompassing that I couldn't think when it was talking, or do anything but listen. Comprehension came a half-second later, so I was left slightly dazed, still puzzling out what it had just said.  
"I…I wanted to see what was on the other side." It sounded whiney and lame when I said it aloud, but I supposed that anything would, compared to this being. My left hand tightened on my bow. I couldn't possibly kill this being, but it was sort of a comfort thing.  
'Do you see all this light?' it asked me. I squinted as it flared up. I honestly think I would have more comfortable in complete darkness then with this poor excuse for light.  
"Yes," I said aloud. 'Hard to miss,' I added in my mind.  
'It is hard to miss. You need to help get rid of it. This is the Deadlights, child, and it's not a pleasant place to be.'  
'Okay,' I thought. 'It can read my mind. I think. Can it?'  
'I try not to take stands on matters such as this, but I need the help as much as you. You all might die if I do. I don't know really. But you're here to help. You have been prepared.'  
"How can anyone be prepared for this?" I asked miserably. I'm not a girl to save worlds. I'm a girl who cannot make it through the week with control over her mind; who only find comfort in the hunt and kill.  
'These hypnotic states that you find as a sign of weakness will be what will save you all. I'm sending you through the door. Remember, save yourself first, your friends next, and then the world. The first time they will save you.'  
"Who are you?" I asked in awe.  
'I created the universe, but don't blame me for it. I had a bellyache at the time.'  
Before I could really think about that, I felt myself being hurtled through space. I closed my eyes and tried to reassure myself that this was a dream, damn it, a dream, even though I knew it was not. I stopped suddenly, as though I had been slammed into a wall. It didn't hurt, but the impact ran throughout my body, and I knew that unconsciousness was inevitable. I checked my bow—intact, and counted my arrows—all were there. Then I tried to look up, but I passed out before I could open my eyes.


	4. Chapter 3

CHAPTER FOUR

"No, I don't think she's awake yet."  
"How long has she been here? 19 hours? Twenty? Are you sure she's alive?"  
"She has a pulse, if that's what you mean."  
"Is she in a comma?"  
I was awake. I kept my eyes closed, though. I was on some hard surface. It felt like a dirt floor, judging by the texture. I slightly opened my left eye to see a boy and a girl arguing.  
The girl had flaming red hair that hung down to her waste in waves. Her eyes were green, and her face looked hardened somehow. She wore jean shorts and a blouse. I knew that she was one of those people you just don't mess with. She was the one asking if I was alive.  
The boy wore a sweatshirt and jeans, which seemed to be a little warm for the heat inside wherever I was, but he seemed comfortable. He had blond hair and blue eyes, and a confident look. I felt certain that he was the brains behind most operations that he and whoever he was with performed.

This place was underground, about five by ten feet. There were some things, mostly kid's stuff, scattered around. A window on the roof let light in.  
"If she is, then she will die soon without medical treatment. Which we don't have."  
Both of them looked to be 14 or 15 years old. They looked different then most others. They both seemed sharpened somehow, as though they had been through much in a short amount of time.  
"Then what are we supposed to do? Throw her out to one of them?"  
"If she's going to die anyways, then maybe we should…"  
Before he could complete his sentence, I tried to say: 'Who are you?' But what actually came out was an inarticulate groan.  
The boy started, and then looked at me guiltily, knowing that he'd been caught talking about throwing me to my death. The girl, however, ran to my side.  
"Are you alright now? What happened?"  
I thought for a minute, wondering if it had been a dream, and if not, how much of it that they might believe. As I sat up and looked at them, I believed more then ever that something was different here, and I had an idea that they would believe me pretty much no matter what I said. In addition, I wasn't in a position to refuse to speak (although I had no idea why, I was certain that I was somehow indebted to them), and I wasn't in a condition to make something up. However, my thoughts were still in a bit of a snarl from impact.   
"I…there was this door…and this turtle…but then I was here…"  
Instead of looking reproachful as I had somewhat expected, their eyes grew wide in recognition as they exchanged glances.  
"Who are you?" I asked.  
"My name is Ben," they boy answered, "and she is Beverly."  
"And I'm Sara," I said, purely out of habit, not giving it any thought whatsoever.

I stood up and climbed the ladder that led to the trapdoor that made up the roof, pushed it up, and looked outside. It appeared to be in a forest somewhere. Before I could look any further, Beverly grabbed my waist and yanked me down, just as a silhouette with a knife appeared and took a swing at me. Beverly and I landed in a tangle on the floor, and the roof slammed shut.

"You probably shouldn't do that," she stated, almost sarcastically, but not quite.

"Where is this? What's happening?"  
"We found you outside," Ben said. "You were unconscious, and one of Them found you."  
"One of…who? The shadows?"  
"There's more then one now. I don't know where they came from, and I don't know how there are more. Before, there was one, we called it, well, just that: It.  
"But now, many years too early, there are more. There are three that we've seen. I guess that they might have come from the same place that the original 'It' came from. If this is true, then we are surely doomed. These three, just a day ago, have completely taken Derry. Maybe the world, but I think it's just Derry. No one can leave, and no one has come in.  
"We've been trying to find the others, but we haven't been able to go far from the clubhouse anymore. They wont ever come in, but one of Them is almost always just outside.  
"We found you just outside with one over you, so we pulled you in." He made it sound like no big deal, but I could imagine trying to drag what could very well be a corpse across the ground, being quickly pursued by a nightmare. Yes, these two had most certainly saved my life. And I hoped it would be long before I would return the favor.  
"How long," I asked, "have I been here?"

"Less then a day," Beverly answered. "Basically, we're cut off here. If we don't find a way to get Them to leave, then we're going to have to split off and make a run for it."

"Run where?" I asked. They both looked stumped.

"Well," Ben said animatedly, as if he was talking off the top of his head, "we need food and water, so I guess we need to get to a store or something. Maybe we could lock the door when we're there, and…"

"Do you honestly think a locked door will keep It out? Any of Them?" Beverly snapped. Ben did not look hurt or offended, as if he understood that she was just frustrated with the situation, not with Ben. They were terrified, both of them.

"I think we need to get to Bill," she said. "Or get him here. He will know what to do."

"He could be dead, Bev," Ben said in a soft voice.

"I don't think so," she said, her eyes shining with hope. "We would know. Because now that They're back, we're connected again. _And we would know._ None of them are dead, and if we can get them all here, then we can make a stand! We can fight back, just like we did before!" she said, her voice building up in excitement as she went along.

"We need a plan, first," Ben said gloomily. That seemed to crush Beverly's sudden good mood as soon as it had come. After a few minutes of solemn silence, I finally thought of something.

"What are they exactly?" I asked. "What do they do? How have they taken over?" I was envisioning three hooded figures with many dangerous weapons, but I was totally thrown by what Ben said next.

"They're shape shifters. Every one of Them. They read your mind, find your worst fear, and run with it. And all too often, the person they're attacking will end up dead."

What the turtle had said was still bouncing around in my head. 'These hypnotic states that you find as a sign of weakness will be what will save you all.'

'They're going to have trouble reading your mind if it's wiped blank,' some alien voice said in my head. Had he phrased it any other way, I would not have figured it out. But he had, and I did.

"I think I might know a way that I can get out of here," I said softly.

From what I could tell of these two from the short time I've known them, Ben is the one to consult if you have a plan, and he will shoot it down, alter it, or agree. Beverly is the one to consult if you're ready to put it into action. I was not surprised, then, when it was Beverly who looked up, but Ben who answered.

"What?" he asked.

"I…I can do this thing. It's like going into a comma, but I can still walk and stuff, but I'm not thinking at all…"

"Self-hypnosis?" Ben asked.

"Yes, yes that. Or something like that. I'm thinking that if it cannot read my mind, then how can it kill me?"

Ben kind of stopped for a minute and stared at the ground. I could almost see the sparks fly as the inventive wheels in his head twirled at a speed I doubted I could ever match. His eyes lit up, and he looked at me, and started firing off questions.

"Can you hypnotize others? Bev and me, for instance?"

"I…I don't think so."

"Can you hypnotize yourself at will?"

"I've never tried it."

"Can you follow directions when hypnotized?"

"I've never tried it."

"Can you try to do it now?"

"I'll try," I said dubiously. I doubted it would work, so I did something I'd never done before. I looked inside myself, tried to find the part of me that would surface whenever it would happen. It took fifteen minutes for anything to happen. And even then, I had only felt a little dizzy for a minute, but then it passed. I looked up.

"Sorry, I guess I can't…" My voice trailed off. Beverly was standing up, despite the fact that I would have heard her do so, but didn't. Ben was right in front of me, coming across the small clubhouse in a record time.

"What happened?" I asked, feeling a little woozy.

"You were out for about three minutes. I think this could work," Beverly answered excitedly.

"I don't know," Ben said. "If you can only do that for three minutes at a time, then how do we know that one of Them wont get you when you do wake up?"

"I think I can fight it," I answered. "I think I can stay under as long as I need to. The only problem is that I have no idea where anything is."

"Maybe you can follow a map?"

"I don't know. I don't think so, and I don't want to wake up lost."

"I think we ought to run a few simple tests before we try anything rash."

"What are you thinking of?"

"Try it again. I'm going to try something I think is called hypnotic suggestion."

"Okay," I answered. I didn't like the idea of being so vulnerable to people I didn't know, but who was I to refuse the people who had saved my life? I tried it again, found that part of me, and then I was across the room with a pencil in my hand.

"I still can't believe that that worked," Beverly repeated. Although this was the first time I heard her say that, I could tell that she had said it more then once.

"Well, now we know that we can do something with it."

"Excuse me, what the hell just happened?" I asked, feeling left out, as I always did when I'd missed something.

"Ben told you to go across the room and pick up that pencil, and you did," Beverly answered.

"I think this could work," Ben said quietly. "I really do."

"Where will you send me?" I asked. I felt uncomfortable talking about myself as though I were talking about an object, but that's really what my worth was in this case, wasn't it? That's me: Sara the homing pigeon.

"Bev's right," Ben said. "You need to go to Big Bill's. I can write a note. He will know what to do."

Ben grabbed a sheet of paper from a pile and I gave him the pencil. He sat for a couple of minutes, musing and writing. I watched and waited.

"It doesn't cover everything," Ben said, "But it will have to do."

"Okay. I'll get ready," I said. I knew that this time, I might not get out alive. I considered what the turtle had said, 'save yourself first, then your friends.' But really, by helping them, I was helping myself. So I glanced once at my bow and arrows, but I decided to leave them here.

I let myself fall once more. I found myself coming awake once when I was walking, and I heard footsteps closing in behind me. I forced myself to drift back down again, and then I was being pulled roughly backwards through a doorway.

"Kwuh-Quick!" the boy who had pulled me back shouted. "Th-this way!" He grabbed my hand and started running, and I almost fell down, and then ran unquestioningly after him.

He pulled me up a flight of stairs. I turned while running and saw the door practically explode inward, and an indistinct form crash through. All I saw was the knife's gleam before the boy pulled me around a corner.

We ran down the hallway, and before we could reach the end, It had already made Its way up the stairs, and was rushing forwards.

'We're dead, we're dead, we're dead…' this thought floated through my mind what seemed like a million times before the boy took a left and yanked me so hard into a room that I fell down, and landed harshly on the floor.

The light _swooshing_ sound of the phantom with the knife behind us had stopped, and now heavy clunking footsteps fell and echoed down the hallway.

Thunk. Thunk. Thunk.

Instead of a silvery cloudish figure, of all things, a clown now stood in the doorway.

"You're safe for now," It said in a menacing tone. Its razor teeth were stained with blood. "But trust me, you'll be dead soon. You and your other little friends. And _then_ you'll float, just like the rest of us. Georgy wants to see yah Bill. Hiding in his room will do you no good. Would you like a balloon?"

Some part of my mind dimly comprehended that this was the boy that I had been sent to see. But most of my thoughts were directed towards this thing at the door.

"Please make it go away," I whispered. "Close the door get rid of it please oh God please make it go away…" I whispered, repeating myself over and over.

"W-we killed you wuh-once, and we'll k-k-kill you again," Bill replied calmly.

"You couldn't save Juh-juh-Georgy," It said, mocking Bill's stutter.

He walked up to the doorway. "I d-don't b-believe in you." He slammed the door in Its face.

"Is It gone?" I asked, feeling like a child asking for reassurance, but the question found its way through my locked teeth nonetheless.

"It c-can't get us in h-h-here," he replied. He was panting and out of breath from running, but he seemed to feel none of the hysteria that I felt bubbling to the surface. Or if he did, he hid it well. "I d-don't know wh-why, but It wont f-foll-how us in here. Th-this might be the only place in d-d-Derry th-that's safe from It. How d-did you survive s-so l-long?"

"I haven't been here long," I answered. "I found a door, and then I talked to some giant turtle, and then he sent me here," I said dully, expecting apprehension from him just as I had expected it from Ben and Beverly. Once again, though, I found myself surprised by his lack of disbelief.

"Th-the turtle? Y-you s-s-saw the t-turtle?"

"Yes. They both sounded interested in the turtle, too."

"Who?"

"Ben and Beverly. They sent me here."

"Th-they're st-still alive?"

"Yes. Wouldn't you know if they're dead? If anyone was?" I asked, thinking of Beverly saying that they would now know.

"I g-guess I would, at th-that," he said solemnly.

"Ben wrote this for you," I said, handing him the note; feeling more at ease, just by being around Bill. He had power radiating off of him. I guess he was the sort of guy you just could not help liking. And I, clinging to any power at this point as though I was drowning, was glad to have someone just like that near.

"Th-thanks," he said, opening the note. He held the back towards me, and I watched his eyes flick smoothly from one end of the page to the other. Finally, he nodded and set it aside.

"I've b-b-been hiding in Juh-Georgy's room for the past d-day. S-sometimes It will leave, and I c-can get food and s-stuff. I d-don't know how the others h-have survived. Or if th-they did. B-but I guess they h-have, haven't th-they?"

That was a question I couldn't answer, but I did anyways, in a way. I smiled and nodded, figuring that if they had died, then he wouldn't be uncertain.

"All th-the grownups in D-Derry are g-g-gone. Ih-it's just kids now. Easy f-fucking prey," he said bitterly.

This boy, Bill Denbrough, was a leader. He had been isolated in a time of need, and had suffered from it. He was a leader, and he needed to lead.

"Should we go back?" I asked timidly. "Get all your friends together, just like last time?"

"H-how would you nuh-know about l-l-last time?"

"Beverly was talking about it. She seemed very hopeful."

"W-we got out alright last t-time, but how lucky c-can we get?"

"We need to do something, Bill, and we are going to need you to get us through it."

He bowed his head, casting shadows in his eyes. "I d-don't want to a-ask them again," he said gravely. "I c-couldn't hardly s-stand asking them th-the first time."

Although his speech was ambiguous, I thought I understood its meaning.

"You don't have to, Bill. I think they want to. Ben and Beverly do, anyways. I don't know about the rest, but I think that they will share their willingness."

"We c-can't go far f-from this room," he said. He looked up at me, and stated this not as a statement, but as a question, asking me to disprove him.

"I think maybe I can distract it while you make a run for it." I stopped, blinked, and then smiled. "From It, rather. Do you know how far the clubhouse is from here?"

"It's about f-fifteen minute walk, b-b-but I think I could b-beat It with S-Silver."

"Silver?"

"My old b-b-bike. I h-haven't ridden it f-for years, but it's s-still in good shape."

"Then maybe you can make it."

"M-maybe I can. Ac-hording to th-this note Ben wrote, y-you can s-s-somehow hypnotize yourself s-so It can't g-get you."

"Yes. But I need instruction when I'm in a trance, and I'm not sure how Ben did that. He never explained it."

Bill picked up the note and read it again, then frowned, as though he had not found any sort of instructions.

"Well," he said, "L-let's give it a sh-shot. I'll h-have you get my b-bike ready outside."

"Fair enough." I again called upon that part of me (I was getting quite used to this at this point), and again, I awoke with a start, and no realization of time's passage. I was still in Georgy's room. Bill was sitting on the bed, his head down, as though he was lost in thought.

"What happened?" I asked, feeling as dazed as I did coming out.

"N-nothing. I t-told you wh-what to do, but you just sat there f-for nearly an hour."

"Maybe Ben did something different."

"M-maybe. Maybe it's my s-s-stutter. I don't nuh-know."

"I can try doing it myself," I said musingly. "Hell, I think anything's worth a shot. Where is your bike?"

"Down stairs, in th-the garage. It's r-right next to the d-door," he said, still solemn, still without hope.

I nodded, and started hypnotizing myself again. I seemed to fall slowly this time, and I could feel each stage as I let go completely. As I fell, I thought over and over 'get the bike in the garage to outside the front door.' I felt the sentence grow more surreal as I fell; I thought about every word and what it meant. Finally, I felt the thought take a real and detached form, as if it was flying away. But I knew it was okay, it was going somewhere that it would be more useful then here. I finally started to really drift off, but it was like going to sleep this time.

When I woke up, it felt less like a blackout and more like waking from natural sleep. I was still in Georgy's room, and I was worried that my trance had been no more then sleep. However, the freshness that a natural sleep brought was not present. Still, though, it had been so much like real sleep…

"Did it work this time?" I asked Bill. But then I realized that he was asleep on Georgy's bed. I stood up from the floor I had been sitting on, and looked at him. Yes, he was not unconscious or knocked out, but was in a natural sleep. Had I really been gone so long that he had let himself fall asleep? I didn't know, but I was tired myself.

I went to the closet to grab a pillow and a spare blanket, and lay down on the floor again with them. As I was drifting off, It suddenly appeared in the doorway, looking to be the psychotic clown that it had pretended to be for Bill. I didn't jerk awake, as I surely would have if I had seen it before, or if I had been alone. But because Bill was asleep, the room had somehow filled with a lazy stupor, and I remained half-asleep.

"Bill doesn't believe in you," I yawned. "Neither do I." It then disappeared, or maybe it had never been there in the first place. I fell deep asleep, unmindful of the hardness of the floor or the strange surroundings.


	5. Chapter 4

CHAPTER FOUR

When I awoke, Bill was already awake. He was sitting up on his dead brother's bed, facing away from me, muttering to himself. He spoke quietly, so quietly that his words

(he thrusts his fists)

were incomprehensible.

"Bill?" I said, only slightly reprehensive, but mostly to let him know I was awake. He jerked in surprise, though, and turned to face me.

"Y-you're awake n-n-now?"

"Yes. How long was I gone?"

"You s-set up Silver outside, l-like you said, but wh-when you came back, y-you wuh-weren't awake. I s-stayed up for a c-couple of hours, and when I w-woke up, you were in a r-real sleep."

"I guess I went under farther then I meant to," I apologized. "I'm still not used to this."

"H-here," he said, thrusting a bag of chips at me. "If y-you're hungry, eat th-this. I g-grabbed this w-when It went away."

"Thanks." I was hungry, and I had to refrain from shoving my head into the bag in my eagerness to eat.

"You're g-going to need the energy. We're l-leaving as soon as you're d-d-done."

I nodded. "Should we get food for Ben and Beverly? They've been trapped there for a while now."

He smiled, and gestured towards a backpack that was practically overflowing with food. "T-taken care of."

I nodded and set the chips aside. "I'm ready. Let's go."

"W-we're going to have t-to run like hell to my b-bike. A-and we're g-going to r-r-ride double."

I nodded, and stood up. He slung his backpack over his shoulders as I said

"Let's go."

Bill stood up, took one last look about the room, and then turned to face me.

"I-if It g-g-gets me, then k-keep going."

"Only if you do the same, Big Bill," I said, unconsciously using the name Ben had referred to him as.

He paused and slightly opened his mouth, as if about to say something, but then changed his mind, and only nodded miserably.

"On three," I said. "One."

"T-two."

"Three!" we shouted together, grasped hands, and took off running.

Almost immediately, the sounds started again, every noise that had ever frightened me as a child (and, truthfully, a few in more recent years) started up.

"See if you believe in me now," an ominous voice rolled across the house.

We were down the stairs now, and the closet next to the stairs creaked open, then It jumped out. I could only catch a glimpse of Its fake-white face and bloody fangs before Bill tugged me along faster. We jumped through the wreckage that was once a front door, and Bill let go of my hand to jump onto the bike. His knuckles turned white the second he managed to grasp the handlebar firmly enough.

"C-come on!" he bellowed at me. One foot was on the ground, holding his bike up.

But I couldn't go. The clown had thrown a lasso of something that looked like a cross between a rope and a vine around my left ankle.

"Go, go!" I shouted. "I'll be fine!"

He glanced back, almost dismounted to help me.

"Get going!" I shouted at him. "I can handle It!"

He looked at me for a moment as It jerked hard, and I lost my footing and my jaw smacked down hard on the concrete with a thud. Blood began to flow out of my mouth. I, however, gave no sign of the pain, and tried to get my eyes to glaze over, as I'm sure they do when I'm hypnotized. I wasn't certain if I really could hypnotize myself before It killed me, but now, I was worried about Bill. He seemed convinced, and took off on his bike. I started my hypnosis for real now, and as I started, I felt It rip my shoe off, and felt Its teeth biting into my foot. If I couldn't hypnotize myself in time, it would eat me alive, starting at the feet, working its way up.

All the same, though I felt serene, and I watched Bill start to bike off, swaying violently side to side as he started, but then leveling off. I had just enough time to reflect how smooth and confident he looked on his bike before I was really gone.


	6. Chapter 5

CHAPTER FIVE

Bill practically flew down the deserted streets in Derry, running from It, running from the knowledge that he had almost certainly killed the strange girl, Sara, by running in the first place.

This time wasn't like others. There were never dreams to mark the passage of time every other time I had blacked out. And there was certainly nothing as real as this.

He almost stopped several times to turn around and go back, but each time, a voice whispered for him to keep going, that she was safe.

He leaned far right, just barely making a tight corner, having to lean so close to the ground that he could have run his fingers along it had he chosen to do so. Despite what he had just seen and gone through, he actually started to enjoy the ride. He had ridden Silver less and less after they had left It to die.

And anyways, It was probably still back at his house, wondering why the hell she didn't seem to be afraid of anything. This thought brought a smile to his face, and then he broke out laughing.

Everything was fine now, why shouldn't he laugh? She was certainly safe; whatever doubts he'd had of that had suddenly passed. And he was going to see his friends again, not as casual friends, as they had been in the years after they went into the sewers, but as real friends, bound by fear, bound by It; bound so deeply that it became difficult to sort out one person from another, with casual habits being passed around like colds.

He dismounted Silver to walk it down the bank and into the Barrens, and then remounted and kept riding. But as he approached, he saw something terribly wrong. It was already here waiting, grinning Its terrible clownish grin.

Bill knew that It, although nearly immortal, still took time to move from place to place. But here It was, grinning its vicious grin, ready to tear him to pieces.

Bill began to circle around the clearing, and it followed him, cutting off his way into the clubhouse and safety.

I was watching all this from some bird-eye view. I flew down (as you can in dreams such as this one) and into the clubhouse. Ben and Beverly were sitting in their clubhouse, oblivious that their leader was less then thirty feet away, in need of help. 'Open the hatch!' I shouted. They seemed oblivious to my yells. 'For Bill!' I shouted. 'Open it for Bill!' Ben only looked up, but Beverly stood up and threw the door open.

Outside, Bill saw the door open, and considered how he was to get in. He stared at It, still incomprehensive on how it had managed to move so fast, faster, even, then Silver. He didn't see another one closing in behind him, the other taking the shape of a corpse, one with the biggest knife I had ever seen.

'Bill!' I shouted. 'Move!'

Bill glanced over his shoulder, though, and saw the other. When he did, the one he had been staring down lunged forwards. Bill heard the movement and started peddling furiously towards the clubhouse. He took a sharp turn just when he would have plowed into It, and his back tire rammed into Its leg. His bike whirled into several turns on the loose gravel.

He managed to stay on it until he hit the door, where he was thrown violently from his bike to the other side of the clubhouse, where he lay flat on his back, one hand reached over his shoulder to firmly grasp the frame of the door. He lay there, his head cut and bleeding, and watched as both of them advanced towards him like wolves.

Beverly grabbed his hand and began pulling him in, just as they both lunged at him. They wanted Bill just as much as Beverly did; but they wanted him dead.


	7. Chapter 6

CHAPTER SIX

I awoke again like waking from sleep. I knew that I had dreamed this time, something about Bill, but nothing more clear then that came to me.

I stood up. I was actually feeling okay, except for a pounding headache. However, I had expected to wake up injured or captured, or maybe to not wake up at all.

My foot had teeth marks dotted all over it, and it did hurt slightly to stand on it, but not enough to impair my walking. It was the headache that was really bothering me. I could tell that it was because of too much traces in too short amount of time just as surely as I could have told that it was because of loud rap music with heavy bass being blasted into my ears. I would have to find my way back to the clubhouse on my own.

A piece of memory came back then. I was nearly gone by then, but I remembered watching Bill just starting his ride, leaving me to whatever fate I had been condemned to. He had biked…

"To the left," I whispered. He had taken a sharp left and had gone to the Barrens. So that's where I went. But as I walked, I knew that I should be taking turns that I was not taking, and after a long while, I was hopelessly lost. I still had a headache, and now I had no safe place to be at to recuperate. I knew that if It came now, then I would probably just lay down and let it at me.

However, for nearly an hour, nothing happened, except that I kept wandering, taking lefts and rights at random. I stopped before a house that looked just like the other ones, but I could tell something was different.

"Yes, go in there," a voice whispered. It sounded to me (or maybe it was the way my mind heard it) like Bill. Enough had happened in this last day that I knew that sometimes, it's just better to listen to the voices in your head. So I walked into this seemly random house, wondering what I would find.


	8. Chapter 7

CHAPTER SEVEN

I knocked once, but no one answered the door or called from somewhere inside. I tried the knob, unlocked, and stepped inside. The entire house was in disarray. There was a splash of blood on the floor, and everything had been knocked from any surface that they may have once sat on to the floor, and almost anything that could have been broken was broken.

The house was entirely silent except for my own breathing and my footsteps (which seemed to echo, as all footsteps do, in places such as these; disarray, despair, gloom).

"Is anyone here?" I shouted. I could almost here my word's echo, mocking me. No one answered. "I'm here to help!" I shouted. And again, no answer. The house seemed darker now, and I wanted more then ever to get out.

'No,' the voice whispered again, 'you need to find him. He's one of us.'

I sighed and walked up the stairs. I checked the room on top, the closet, the bathroom. Nothing. I then checked the room at the end of the hall, and that's where I found him.

He was not unconscious, as I had expected him to be, nor was he gagged. He was, however, tied up. He was sitting on the floor at the foot of a bed, his arms held aloft by ropes tied firmly to the edge. His eyes were vacant, and he stared dully at the ground.

I stood and stared at him, gathering my thoughts, and as I did so, his eyes flicked up once. That single flicker of intelligence told me that he was still sane, or could easily enough be brought back to sanity. He was not far gone.

"Who are you?" I asked cautiously, worried that he may suddenly become violent. Although he didn't look like he would be much of a threat, even if he weren't tied, I've heard about the dangerous things that crazy people can do.

"Eddie," he whispered. His voice was dry and cracked. I left then to grab a glass of water, which he sounded like he needed badly. When I offered it to him, though, he started trembling violently, and he refused to drink, and turned his head when I moved the glass near his face.

"Listen," I said. "We need to get out of here. Can you run?"

He didn't respond. He had gone back to gazing vacantly at the floor. I dumped out the water on the floor of the glass I was still holding, and threw the glass on the floor, away from Eddie and me. It shattered, and I picked up one of the larger shards and used it to hack into the ropes. I got both of them thin enough to break, and did so. He let his arms flop to the floor.

"Can you walk?" I asked, fighting back the edge of panic. If It came now, then we were helpless.

But if Eddie had been tied up for this long, I mused, then wouldn't It have already killed him? This must be one of the Safe Places from It, and someone else had gotten Eddie. It was the only explanation that made sense. Even if I was wrong, though, something had done this to him, and we needed to get away before it came back.

But Eddie still didn't respond. I grabbed his hands, braced his feet with my own (ignoring the twinge of pain that went through my left foot, where It had bit me), and pulled him up. He stood there, looking as much in a trace as I'm sure I do when I hypnotize myself.

"We need to get to the Barrens," I said. "I don't know where it is. Can you show me?"

He smiled slightly then, looking a little more there when he did. "Got a compass in my head," he said incomprehensibly, and began walking. He faded again, and began walking like a zombie, lurching forwards, slowing down, sometimes limping. I let him walk out of the house and into the street (where I had not yet seen a car drive on) before I couldn't take it anymore. I stopped him.

"I'm going to carry you," I said. "Tell me where I want to go, okay?"

"Barrens," he croaked.

"Yes," I said, bending down, letting him crawl onto my back, picking him up as I might a child for a piggyback ride.

"Forward," he said dully. "Right," he said at the first intersection. And so it went, for the next ten minutes, him directing me left, right, straight, off the road, under this branch here, and so on. After a long while, I picked up on the trail. Eddie was, indeed, leading me to the clubhouse.

When we reached the clearing where the clubhouse lay underground, I stopped just outside the clearing, hid in the brush, and looked in. I was unsure of why I was being so cautious now when a flash of dream recurred to me; when It had been closing in on Bill. It wasn't in sight, but there was a small splash of blood where Bill's head had rested. Nothing noticeable, but something that I had been looking for.

"Hey!" I shouted, standing up, to see if I couldn't here It coming for me, and to let the others already inside know that I was here. The former had no accomplishment that I could see, but the latter seemed to be effective. Ben opened the door, and his head popped out of the opening.

"Eddie!" he shouted, whether in delight or terror, I could not tell. Maybe it was, in some strange way, both. Glad to see Eddie, but horrified to see him like this. Eddie lay limply on my back, his eyes either closed or vacant, I could not tell.

From inside the clubhouse, to my relief, I heard Bill's voice drifting out:

"Is Eh-Eh-Eddie out th-there?"

Then Beverly's voice, softly, reassuring:

"Yes. Lie down. Eddie will be right in."

That was when It came. It burst out of the bushes on the left and ran like a lunatic towards Eddie and I. It looked like a clown again, with the orange pom-poms on Its suit bouncing with each footfall. So I ran then, towards the clubhouse. Ben threw the door open, then ducked down. I had throw Eddie in, and then dive myself. I felt Its claw grab me again, ripping open the wounds that it had made on my foot previously. But Its grip did not hold, and I fell into the clubhouse. I landed harshly on my back, feeling the wind leaving me in a gust. Its face loomed over the clubhouse door, and I, still struggling to regain my breath, could only lie on my back and watch It as It spoke.

"Now," It said viciously to me, "You will die too. Just as surely as these others will." It began laughing Its crazy, murderous laugh. Beverly (who had caught Eddie as I had thrown him in, and had set him down) calmly stood up and pulled down on a rope, which was looped around the door's handle outside. The door swung up violently, smacking It in what looked so much like a bitchslap that I couldn't help laughing (despite the fact that I was having trouble breathing). Its own laughter, however, ceased when It was hit, and the door slammed shut.

My laughter tapered off as I found enough strength to sit up.

"Who's idea was that to put the rope on the door?" I asked, already knowing.

"It was Ben's," Beverly said. He thought that it would be a good idea to be able to close the door without reaching out."

I nodded. Of course it was Ben.

While we were talking, I watched out of the corner of my eye Bill quietly talking to Eddie.

"Y-you alright E-Eddie?"

Eddie turned and looked up with uncomprehending eyes.

"Bill?" he asked, as though he had no idea who he was talking to, but was only venturing a guess, or maybe speaking a vague memory.

"Y-yes," Bill replied, apparently saddened at Eddie's state. "I'm s-s-sorry I c-couldn't help y-you." He sounded on the verge of tears.

"What happened to Eddie?" Ben asked me.

"I don't know," I said. "I found him tied up. I figured that someone had gotten him. I don't think it was Pennywise, because It would have killed him, wouldn't It've?"

Ben looked confused. "I don't know if anyone could have made him like this. This looks exactly like something that It might have done."

"He wont drink. Rather, he wouldn't when I offered water to him. His voice is all dry, and I don't think he's had anything to drink for the last couple of days."

"I think he will do just about anything for Bill. He might be Eddie's only hope. I think you should try go get him to get Eddie to drink." He never told me to do it, voicing it as a suggestion, but I think if I hadn't, then he would have socked me (had I been a boy, he didn't seem the type to hit girls) and done it himself.

I nodded, and looked over at the two. Eddie and Bill were still talking quietly. Bill had blood in his hair, and his head was bandaged heavily. Eddie still seemed at out of it as he had at his house, but he was saying more then one word at a time, as he had with me. I grabbed a water bottle from the backpack that Bill had brought. I walked over them, and looked at Eddie.

"Eddie," I said, noticing Bill watching me. "You need to get something to drink. You're going to die if you don't."

He began trembling again, and shook his head violently side to side.

"No, no I don't want any, I'm fine, really," he said, sounding terrified, shrinking back. "It's bad, It poisoned it, I know It did, I don't want any." His voice faded in and out, sounding as though he was explaining and reliving his time tied up simultaneously.

I looked at Bill. "He needs to drink. Can you get him to?" I asked him. He nodded confidently, and took the water bottle that I had handed to him.

"Eddie, th-there's n-n-nothing wrong with th-this water. I n-need you to dr-drink it."

Eddie suddenly started gasping and wheezing.

"Oh C-Christ," Bill said.

"He has asthma?" I asked, dumbfounded.

Bill didn't pause to answer. He slapped at Eddie's pockets, and pulled out an aspirator from one, and triggered it down Eddie's throat. Eddie breathing slowed, and he seemed calmer.

"Eddie," Bill said. "Th-this is different wuh-water. It's okay t-to drink." He unscrewed the cap and took a sip himself. "I-it's fine Eddie."

He then tipped the water down Eddies throat. Eddie began to tremble violently again, but he did not try to stop Bill. After a few seconds, Eddie reached up, took the bottle, and drained it.

"This is different," Eddie said. I realized with a start that Eddie was suddenly perfectly fine; that he now really understood that he was out of Its clutches and in a haven of sorts. Somehow, by accepting the water from Bill, by accepting instruction from Bill, he had snapped whatever hold It had left on him. "The water…the kind It offered to me, the water was poisoned. I knew it…and It knew I knew it."

"Y-you're among your f-f-friends now," Bill said reassuringly.

"I know," Eddie replied, his voice choked with emotion. "I don't see why I didn't see that earlier." He quickly wiped his face, brushing a single tear away.

"It had you," Beverly said from across the clubhouse. "And It wasn't about to let go."

Eddie paled, knowing that Beverly was right. "It could have killed me," he said. "It just burst into my room a couple of weeks ago and tied me up."

It could not have possibly have been more then a couple of days that he had been there, but his mind had turned the horror it into a month.

"Every day, almost all the time, it would be there, always something different. It nearly killed me more times then I can count, got my heart going so fast I thought it would explode. But it never killed me. It just kept me afraid all the time."

It had probably realized something that had never occurred to It before. There were two ways to use a cow: for milk or meat. I guess we were just like livestock t It. It had always been a meat-eater, but It had apparently realized that if It kept Eddie alive, then It could feed constantly off of his fear. Not to mention, if It kept Eddie alive, then It had something that the rest of his friends wanted.

"My mind, after a while, just kind of gave out. Everything after that is just a fog." He looked up suddenly. "Bev? Was it you that found me? Or was it you?" he said, turning to me.

"'Twas me," I replied.

"Who are you?" he asked. I told him my name, and I told him my story. Actually, we all swapped stories for a long time, for several hours, until we were all on the same page.

"We need to get the others," I said finally. "Then you guys can kill It."

"What do you mean 'you guys?'" Ben asked. "You're here too, right? We're in this together. All of us."

I started at that, and then considered it. I'd never been a part of something like this. In my old life, before any of this, I had never been invited into a group. I had attracted people, one at a time, like a honey pot to a fly, then catching them and calling it 'friendship,' and proceeded holding on to them with a death grip even after they had changed entirely to someone I didn't know anymore.

I had drawn people to me, and it was seldom that I was drawn into anything else. The casual way that he had invited me to be a part of something astounded me. I had no idea, at this point, that Ben, too, had been just as shocked as I was when he was invited in with this group.

I smiled at his words, and did not betray any of my other thoughts, feeling disgusted with myself that I didn't. Here I was, keeping to myself again, even when it wasn't within my best interests to do so; even when it may even be deadly to keep secrets.

But another thought occurred to me then. I was not here to help them. The turtle had sent me here to get them together. But I didn't know how they would feel about that, so I decided to simply go along with it for now.

"Okay, I can help you guys if you want," I said, still not admitting myself in as more then a guest, "But we still need to find Richie and Mike and Stan first."

"I th-think I nuh-know w-w-where S-Stan is," Bill said.

"Where is he?" I asked.

"H-he's at his s-s-synagogue. At l-least, he w-w-was, last I h-heard f-from him."

"Where is that?"

"It's nuh-near downt-town."

A thought occurred to me then. This realization brought to focus something that would make getting the last few harder then ever to get. It would be quite a feat indeed to get the entirety of the "Losers" (as they called themselves) together.

"I don't know how I'm supposed to get him here," I said. "I can hypnotize myself, but that hasn't helped to get any of you here. Do you understand?"

"What are you trying to say?" Beverly asked.

"I've only been able to avoid It, and sometimes distract It. But It's not going to fall for that anymore. And as we get together as a group, It has less places to be, and when there's only two or one of us left, stranded, then It can have us under constant surveillance. And when It does, we're stuck."

"R-Richie," Bill said softly, almost to himself.

"What about him?" I asked.

"He c-c-can fight ih-It. He d-did it last ti-hime, and he c-can d-d-do it a-again."

"How?"

"H-he believes."

I nodded, slightly understanding what he was talking about, after hearing his tale of their last encounter with It.

"If you're right, then I can get Richie," I said. "But what about the others? Stan and Mike?"

"I d-d-don't know. Muh-maybe we c-can get th-them l-later. B-but we need t-to get as m-many of us as w-w-we can as soon as we c-can."

"Do you know where Richie is?" I asked him.

"N-no."

"Okay, okay," I said, in an attempt to sort out everything I knew. "We don't know where Richie is, we know Stan is at his synagogue. Everyone else is here."

"Except for Mike," Beverly added.

"Well, do you know where Mike is?"

"I think he was coming down to the Barrens when all this started happening. He should be anywhere between his house and here."

"Y-you n-n-need to g-get Stan fir-hurst," Bill said.

"Why?" I asked.

"Dunno," he replied calmly and confidently. "Ih-it's right."

The others were nodding solemnly, in agreement, but not of understanding. Why? Bill says so. That's all the reason they needed.

I sighed, then said:

"Okay, Stan first. But I don't know if I can do it today. I've got this headache that I'm certain was brought on by being hypnotized most of today." It was going to be dark in a couple of hours, so my request was not an unreasonable one.

"F-first thing t-t-tomorrow," Bill said.

We sat in silence for a while, then Bill moved over to where Eddie was lying down, and they conversed quietly. Ben and Beverly stayed where they were.

"I just thought of something," Ben said. "Why doesn't It just come in and get us now?"

"This is a Safe Spot," I replied apprehensively. It was quite obvious, and I would imagine that someone intelligent like Ben would understand this.

"But why?" he asked, as though seeing it through a new light. "Why is It so unwilling to go in here? Why wouldn't It go into Georgy's room when It did before?"

"I guess that's because something is different. These places mean a lot to you guys, and that somehow drives It off."

Beverly spoke up then. "Here's an idea: what happens if It comes in here? What if we can kill one of them just by dragging It in here?"

"Not a good idea," Ben said. "What if nothing happens? What if all It needed was an invitation inside to kill us here?"

"Then we die," I replied. "But what if It just explodes or something?"

Beverly broke into a huge smile at that idea, but Ben's only showed the same thoughtfulness that it had shown previously, that he always showed.

"This is too big of an idea to not even try out, right?" I asked. "You—we—have at least three to kill. Wouldn't it make it easier to just kill one by knocking It over into here then having to worry about that whole Chüd ritual?"

"It would make it easier," Ben admitted, "But I think it's too risky to risk all of our lives on something that we have no idea of the result. Okay, what if It does explode? What if it sends out fiery chunks and burns the whole damn place down? What if it explodes acid?"

"I don't think that will happen," Beverly said. "If It does die in here, then I think the worst that could happen is that It will get blood all over the place."

"But you don't know that," Ben replied.

"How much do we really know anyways?" I asked. "As far as I can tell, we're just guessing here."

"But really, none of the risks we've taken have taken have directly threatened all of us at once, have they?" he replied.

"It doesn't have to be here," Beverly cut in. "We could find another one of those Safe Spots. Stan's, maybe."

"Assuming he's found one," Ben said. We all glanced over at Eddie, who still looked pale, still looked like he could relapse into that near-death state again at any time, and without warning.

I shuddered. "I don't want to see that again. It was horrible."

"But it might happen again," Beverly said. "You need to be ready if it does."

"I don't know how I can be ready," I replied gloomily.

"Just do your best," Beverly said encouragingly. But she had not seen Eddie slumped over against Its binds, or felt the persistent terror that It could come back at any time.

We didn't stay up for long. The day had been long, and we had all been terrified throughout most of it. We stayed up and talked for a couple of hours, sometimes as one group, but mostly talking with only one or two people. We talked about various things, some important, most just random talk. The serious mood that we all seemed to be in seemed to slowly lift as we talked.

One thing that I had been told that I was unaware of was the fact that when the turtle had sent me through the door, he had sent me through time as well as space. It was currently 1962. According to them, I was from the future, 44 years ahead.

"Dang, you guys are old!" I laughed hysterically. We were all in a good mood, feeling somewhat drunk because we were all tired, and our spirits had inexplicably skyrocketed. Not to mention that we were snacking as we ate, and Bill seemed to have grabbed quite a few sugary foods when he left. Although I didn't believe that sugar actually caused hyperness, the others seemed to, and I was simply reacting to their good mood.

"T-tell me about th-the future," Bill said in a mocked awe voice.

Eddie looked up from where he was lying down. He seemed to still have a shadow hanging over him, something about his time alone with It, however, he seemed to be in the best mood of all.

"Yes, tell us!" he squeaked.

"There are flying cars!" I stated dramatically, standing up, feeling like I was putting on a play. "Polka music is the biggest thing! And only old people are named Bill!" I said, punching Bill playfully in the shoulder.

"Y-you people have n-n-no taste," he said with dignity, but ruined his charade by bursting out laughing. We all laughed.

"Polka music! You're kidding right?" Ben asked. "There's no way they could replace rock with polka!"

"No, seriously, it's rap. Rap is like talking with a beat. But I still think rock is way better."

"What are the flying cars like?" Beverly asked dreamily.

"They haven't been released to the general public yet. The best we have are cars that parallel park themselves. But only rich people have those."

"Do you have hotels on the moon?" Eddie asked.

"No, but they're planning on it soon."

Bill suddenly grew quite. He seemed to have fallen from the happy stupor that the room seemed filled with, and, same as had happened in Georgy's room, his mood seemed to affect everything, right down to the air temperature.

"Something wrong Bill?" I asked.

"I wuh-wonder where th-the other a-are," Bill said, not as a question, but as a glum statement. It was a question of their families, of everyone they knew in Derry. Teachers, policemen, shopkeepers, everyone. But most of all, it was a question that wondered where the other Losers were.

Well, as you can imagine, that wrecked our high spirits in a hurry. We all stopped talking, and looked down in a gloomy silence, they; thinking about their friends and family, and me; thinking about the future, which was the present now. Wondering if they were looking for me, or if I would come back right when I had left, if I would come back at all.

"I'm t-t-turning in," Bill said quietly. We all agreed. They had seven sleeping bags here, and enough room for seven to stretch out in. There were only five, however, so it was fairly roomy. I fell asleep almost instantly, and had the most vivid dream that I can remember ever having.


	9. Chapter 8

CHAPTER NINE

I was running along outside, in my dream, and I knew that It was chasing me. I stopped and looked up at a large building, and I knew it was a Safe Spot. I ran inside, and then stopped to catch my breath, then stood and walked. As I wandered throughout the empty hallways, I knew that it was Stan's synagogue. I went into a room. Inside was an altar and rows of seats. And on one row sat two boys, and on the next row up, turned around to face the boys, was a girl. I had never seen Stan before, never had him described to me. But I knew which one was him. There; on the left. Stan. There was no doubt.

"Stan," I said. "You need to come with me. The others are waiting."

"Don't go out there, Stan," said the girl. "It's another trick. Stay here."

"Who are you?" asked the other boy angrily.

"Bill sent me," I said, not to the other boy, but to Stan. "They need you, Stan."

"I don't know you," Stan said. "I can't trust you. Not after what's happened. If you're a friend, you'll understand."

I didn't know what to do. Stan wouldn't come, and the Losers needed him. So I decided to leave. But as soon as I opened the door to the hall, It was there. I had thought that the entire synagogue was a haven, but apparently, only the altar was. It had a sword of some sort, and it swung, hit high on my right arm, sliced through my upper body, and made a clean exit high on my left arm. I shuddered, and died, hearing the screams from the girl who had insisted that Stan stay.

"I said I would get you!" It shouted in a gleeful tone. "And now you can float with all the rest of us!"

But then things shifted, everything blended together, and then I was out in space, in the same macroverse that I had met the turtle in.

'This is death?' I thought slowly. I was, indeed, floating.

The turtle wasn't there, but neither (thank God) were the Deadlights. What was there couldn't have made me happier. Bill Denbrough stood in space, looking slightly rattled, but for the most part, he looked okay.

I looked down to see if I could say the same for myself. I had a thin red line of scab where the sword had cut me apart, but I was still intact.

"Sara?" Bill asked, his voice completely void of his ever-present stutter. "What just happened?"

"You're asking me?" I responded rhetorically, then answered anyways: "I had a dream, and It killed me. And then I was here. You?"

"I had a dream, too. It was about Stan."

"So was mine!"

"What happened in yours?"

"I went in and tried to save him, but he wouldn't leave. The other two didn't want for him to go, so he didn't. It killed me when I left to get back."

"My dream was similar to that."

"How similar?"

"Well, the two others, where they a boy with black hair and brown eyes and a girl with blond hair and green eyes?"

"Yes, yes they were. How did you know that?"

"As I said, similar."

He looked into my eyes and gazed at me seriously.

"Do not make the mistake of thinking this is a dream," he said. "This one or the last one."

The realization that the last dream was nothing more then a dream within this dream suddenly dawned on me. Then what he had said registered.

"In my dream," he continued, "You and I both went in to convince Stan. The boy and the girl tried to convince him not to, but you and I convinced him otherwise. Before we walked out, you did something, you got your face really close to mine, and when you pulled back, my eyes were all blank, just like yours are when you're hypnotized. You did the same to Stan, and before you did it to yourself, Stan said…something. It was important, and if he hadn't, then something terrible would have happened."

Bill shook his head sorrowfully. "I don't remember what it was that he said. But I do know that it's important. And I know that I need to be there for it to happen.

"I need to go with you," he said. "When we wake up, when we go to get Stan, I need to go with you."

"I think it was just a dream," I said. "I can't hypnotize other people. You know that."

"If you wake up tomorrow with the ability to hypnotize me, then take me. Promise me that?"

"Okay Bill," I said. I was confident that I wouldn't. I think that that was the only reason I had for agreeing. "But you need to ask me tomorrow. If you ask that, then I'll also know for sure that this isn't a dream."

He nodded. "I think I'm going to wake up soon. I think it's almost time to go."

I felt it too; the edge of wakedness was looming over the horizon (metaphorically, of course, there was no horizon where we were, only a great big nothing).

Suddenly, Bill disappeared.

"Guess he woke up," I said nervously. I gazed around. There was nothing else. "Being here for too long could drive someone crazy," I muttered. And suddenly, I was feeling both nothing from where I was standing and a shaking on my shoulders from somewhere far away where I was lying down, sleeping…

I awoke with a start. Bill stood over me.

"Why'd you wake me up?" I muttered sleepily, having forgotten completely about my dream. The other three were still asleep. It was still mostly dark in the window on the door, but in a faint shade of gray that said that the sun would rise in a few minutes.

"I d-d-didn't want t-to leave y-you alone th-there."

"Alone whe-?" I asked, trailing of, suddenly remembering. "It was real?" I asked.

"Y-yes. I s-s-said it w-was real, b-but you d-d-didn't believe me."

"Sorry about that," I said. "I don't usually have prophetic dreams like that."

"Ih-it's r-real alright. L-l-look at you're a-arms."

I looked down and saw the thin cuts that had been drawn across me arm, in exactly the same place that It had sliced me into two pieces. I felt like I shouldn't have been surprised, but I was anyways.

"It was real," I said musingly.

"S-so you're g-g-going to ta-hake me w-with you?" he asked.

"If I can hypnotize you, then sure," I said. "But I don't want to put your life in danger, Bill. You're the only thing holding us together."

"Th-there's no d-d-danger. I'll b-be fine."

"How do you know…never mind. You just know, right?"

"R-right."

"I'm going to try to hypnotize you, okay?"

He nodded.

"How did I do it in your dream?"

"Y-you l-l-leaned in r-real c-close, s-s-so our f-foreheads were touching, and l-looked r-r-really d-deeply into m-my eyes. I d-don't know what y-y-you did next."

I did exactly what he said. He was sitting, and I was kneeling, so my hair spilled onto his shoulders. My blue eyes looked deeply into his. I had no idea what to do next, but the next step came to me. I was suddenly falling forward, like in those dreams where suddenly you're falling, and you wake up with a jerk. I jerked, too. I threw myself backwards and landed on my back.

"S-Sara?"

"I'm alright."

"What are you two doing?" Beverly's voice drifted sleepily towards us.

"I'm trying to hypnotize Bill. Go back to sleep."

Beverly rolled over and did just that, clearly not thinking about anything I had said.

"Wh-what h-h-happened?" he asked.

"There was s-something…" I stopped abruptly, shut my mouth, and opened my eyes wide.

"Y-you stu-huttered."

"I was in your head, Bill. Everything just began overlapping in my mind…and…I don't know. I was in your head. Are you sure you want to go through with this?"

He nodded. "I t-t-trust you, S-Sara." So I leaned forward again, my brown hair pooling on his black shirt, looking into his eyes. I started falling again, but this time I closed my eyes instead of jerking back, and the sensation stopped. I opened them again, and this time, the fall seemed less like a mad slide as it did a controlled decent into some cave, one filled with many rare finds everywhere you might choose to look.

And suddenly, I was looking into my eyes as much as I was looking into his. There was something then, some snarl in my mind, and I was forcibly yanked back into reality.

"D-did I block y-you out?" Bill asked apologetically.

I nodded instead of giving a verbal response, worried that I would start stuttering again.

"S-sorry. I g-g-got nervous. C-could you t-try again?"

"Okay." I leaned in again, and this time, neither of us pulled back. I was in his head again, and I tried to shift as much of my consciousness into his head as I could. There wasn't much, but enough to tip the scales from me being less in my own head and more in his.

I found myself calling on that part of myself that I didn't know existed in others, but apparently, it did. Because it wasn't that part of myself I was calling on, but the part of Bill. A part that was just out of his reach.

I drew back then, back into my own mind, and pulled my face away from his. He stood still, his eyes now vacant and dead, his skin pale. I felt a jolt of fear run through my body. What if I, trying to hypnotize him, had killed him instead?

"S-stand up," I said to Bill. "Damnit Bill stand up, do something, show me y-you're not dead," I said, my voice increasing in panic as I talked. But then he slowly stood up, still looking more then ever like a dead man.

I breathed a sigh of relief, and then stepped nearer to him. I had to tilt his head down slightly so I could look into his eyes. I felt that tilt in power again, and then I was in his head again. I found him, the real Bill, shoved into one corner of his mind, and freed him, understanding that if I hadn't, then he may not have ever come out on his own.

"W-what the h-h-hell?" he asked. He had just been sitting down, and had found himself suddenly standing up with no memory whatsoever of doing so.

"That's what it's l-like," I said. And then: "Damn, how do you live with this s-stutter?"

"I've n-never known a-another wuh-way. N-not really."

"Well it sucks," I said.

"Y-you're g-g-getting right over it. L-like a c-coh-hld."

"I guess I am."

"I d-don't."

"When do we leave?" I asked, changing the subject.

"As s-soon as th-the other a-are awake."

So we sat for a long time, wrapped up in our own thoughts. I watched as the sunlight trickled, and then poured through the window. The first one awake was Beverly.

"Whas for breakfast?" she asked sleepily.

"Ch-chips," Bill answered.

"What, no pancakes?" she asked playfully.

"Fine, p-pancake f-f-flavored chips."

"Sounds good," she said, sitting up, letting her hair cascade down her back. She walked over to the bag Bill had brought, and opened a bag of Lays. I realized that I was actual pretty hungry, too. Bill seemed to be having similar thoughts, because we both reached for something to eat, also. I grabbed some Fritos. Maybe it was the movement we made, or the sound of the crinkling bags opening, but before I had eaten two handfuls, Ben was awake.

"Good morning," he said, as though it was a habit deeply ingrained in him, not as though he gave it any thought. "What's for breakfast?" he said, again, as though it wasn't something he gave thought to.

"Pancake-flavored chips," Beverly said, and we all laughed quietly (so not to wake Eddie) at the bewildered look on Ben's face.

"H-here," Bill said, throwing a bag of pretzels at him. We all ate in silence. After a while, Eddie began to twitch and groan in his sleep. We all glanced at him, exchanged looks with each other, and then glanced back to him. A little longer of worried silence, and he began to talk.

"No, no, leave me alone, no, no, no I don't want any leave me alone no stop no please…"

His voice trailed off, and a fine coat of sweat broke out over his face. He started to jerk and twitch in his sleeping bag, and his hands flew up to ward off invisible attackers. Bill walked over to Eddie's sleeping form, and shook him.

"E-Eddie, w-wake up."

Eddie sat up so suddenly that he might have hit Bill had he not jerked back. He was gasping, and I thought he might start screaming, but he instead grasped for his aspirator and triggered it several times down his throat.

"A-are y-y-you alright?"

Eddie was shaking, but then his breath slowed down, and he slowly calmed.

"Nightmares," he managed to get out.

"Don't blame you man," Ben said quietly around a mouthful of Pringles.

"I had them when It had me," Eddie continued. "And you know what the real bitch of it was?" he asked with a shaky laugh. "I just woke up to a bad reality. It would always be there when I woke up. It would always be something different."

It was so easy to minimize what Eddie had been through, simply because it was hard to believe that it had actually happened; that this kid with a frail body and pale skin had been forced to confront his worst fear for days, convinced that he was about to die every minute of it, and had emerged still relatively sane. Eddie, I suspected, beneath his frail exterior, had a core of steel.

"Chips?" I offered a bag of Doritos to him. He just shook his head and looked down.

"S-Sara and I are g-g-going to l-leave to g-get Stan," said Bill after we had both finished eating.

"You mean Sara is, right?" Beverly asked doubtfully. She wasn't correcting Big Bill, but asking for him to explain further.

"No," I said. "Bill's coming too. We already talked. Turns out I can hypnotize other people, and I'm not sure if Stan will just follow some stranger. I need Bill to be there."

"I thought you said you couldn't hypnotize other people," Ben said.

"I said I didn't think I could," I corrected. "But I guess I can."

"You sure about this, Bill?" Beverly asked.

"Y-yes. If I d-don't go, th-th-then we c-can't have everyone h-here. Th-then we c-can't f-f-fight back."

Beverly nodded understandingly. She wanted to kill It, all the more so because Bill wanted to. "Well then, Sara, Bill, I guess I'll see you later."

"Be careful," Ben added.

Eddie had seemed to be lost again in his own thoughts, but he looked up once and waved in a short, jerky motion, looking almost angry.

"I'll s-s-see you l-later, Eddie."

Eddie glanced away from Bill's penetrating gaze. "Sure Bill," he said, sounding unconvinced that he would ever see him again. "See yah."

So I, again, drew close to him, but just as I was starting to find him, I felt some strong flash of emotion. I pulled back, looked at him.

"Was that you?"

"Wuh-was what m-me?"

I felt it again, and then I could feel where it was coming from. It was coming from Beverly, and that particular emotion was jealousy. Then it hit me that Beverly must have had a thing for Bill. Something, anyways, enough so that she didn't want to see him and another girl so close together.

'I'm doing it for you…' I projected.

'…' Surprisingly, I felt a thought come back. It was less of a thought as an emotion: I'm sorry.

"Never mind," I said aloud to Bill to dismiss my question, and as an affirmation to Beverly that I had gotten her apology. I leaned in close again (sensing more then seeing Beverly turning away), and quickly shoved his mind into that corner where it had been in, at the same time implanting an idea in his head: go to Stan. Go with me.

I pulled back, and Bill was solidly hypnotized. Then I hypnotized myself, implanting an idea into my own head: follow Bill. If he dies or is captured, come back here. And then I was whisked off again, to that place where my mind goes when I'm hypnotized, and then I was back again, seemingly in an instant from the clubhouse to the entrance of the building from my dream.

My head was pounding, and I knew that I would not be able to do my self-hypnosis act for a while.

I grabbed Bill and ran then, understanding that It had been chasing us all along; that It still was. Bill stumbled, and then ran after me. He was still as hypnotized as he had been when we had started. We ran down the halls, and I led him down the same passageways that I had in my dream.

I had enough time to reflect that this was almost exactly the same thing that had happened when I had met Bill (only reversed, me coming out of my hypnosis, and him leading me up the stairs and down the hall) as I ran, and as I heard It chasing, coming closer and closer. Finally, I saw the altar, right down this last hallway, but before I could take it, Bill tripped.

I didn't have any time to consider him, only enough time to keep running. Some alien voice again spoke in my head:

'Go now! He'll

(I'll)

be fine! Run!'

And so I ran, leaving Bill behind, lunging for the altar door. I yanked it open and half leaped, half fell inside.

The boy and the girl who were sitting with Stan stood up, wearing identical shocked expressions on their faces. Stan, however, only glanced back once, with a look on his face that told me that he had fully been expecting me, or something like this, at least.

I turned and glanced outside, watched It pass Bill as though It did not see him, and walk strait to the door. I was worried that maybe this wasn't a safe place; that maybe we were all doomed. I couldn't hypnotize myself, and I surely couldn't save the others. I had just enough time to get up, and almost ran to Stan, hoping to save him at least, when It stopped at the doorway.

It seemed about to say something, engage in Its usual witty banter, but before It could, I reached through the doorway and grabbed Its clown suit and yanked it through in one swift motion, acting almost purely on instinct.

My hands grabbed the suit, but what they felt underneath it was something soft and gooshy. I had time to reflect on how awful and dead It smelled before I could pull It in.

It seemed first confident, before I had grabbed It, a bit confused when I had enough courage to actually reach for It, and downright terrified when I pulled It in. It immediately began to bleed from Its ears and eyes and nose and mouth. The blood spilled out and pooled rapidly. It changed form as It died; a clown, a werewolf, a leper, and many other forms, and with every blink of the eye, It was something different. It then lay on the ground, twitching, as though having a seizer, and then It kind of dried out, looking like a mummy in Its pool of blood.

I looked first at It, certainly dead, then at the three kids grouped behind me.

"I'm sorry about this," I said, still shaking, trying not to cry. "I'm probably not supposed to be killing things in here, am I?"

"It's dead," Stan said, sounding thoroughly relived. "It's dead, and that's all that matters."

I thought then of something that Bill had said the previous night: Stan had always been the most reluctant of all of them.

"There are more," I said to Stan. "Two at least. I'm here to help 'The Losers.' We're regrouping, and we need you."

"Don't listen to her," said the girl pleadingly. "It's just another trick. Don't leave."

"Yah, Stan," said the boy. "You remember what happened last time."

"I don't know you," Stan said to me quietly. "I can't trust you. Not after what's happened. If you're a friend, you'll understand."

Almost the exact words from my dream. I turned around without saying a word, into the hall, to get Bill. I pulled him into the haven (feeling their eyes on me), having to steer him around Its dead husk. I got close to Bill, stared into his eyes, and brought him back.

He moaned softly and clutched at his head. I had a bad headache from being hypnotized, too, and understood how bad it was. Every slight movement sent throbbing pain all over my head. Even so, I felt that I had gotten off luckier then Bill, who had never experienced anything like this. I had gone into trances before (although they had never caused headaches when I had not forced them), and I had been hypnotized before, a couple of times, in face. He had been once, and then he had been for hours at a time.

"Bill?" Stan asked softly.

"St-Stan," Bill said, fighting against the pain. "Y-you have t-t-to come back w-with us."

"She's messing with your head, Bill," Stan said, wide-eyed and panicky. "You don't know what you're saying. Get away from her and…"

"I know what I'm saying," Bill said, his voice suddenly becoming deep and powerful and smooth and calm, as though someone else's voice entirely. Stan took a step back, looking slightly fearful. Bill looked slightly possessed, and the weakness he had shown earlier was pushed aside for now. "I know what I am saying and I know what I am doing. Come with us, Stan, or live in your synagogue forever." Before he could say anything more, or listen for a response, he passed out, falling to the floor with a heavy thud.


	10. Chapter 9

CHAPTER TEN

Stan was convinced. The other two, the boy and the girl who he had been with, moved off to the corner furthest away from us, murmuring to each other, and glancing over at us with increasing regularity. Certain words, like 'witchcraft' and 'killer,' seemed to be popping up often.

Stan and I had picked Bill up and set him down on a bench. We took a seat on either side of him, and stared at him as we talked.

"Why did he collapse?" Stan asked.

"I think it was just a drain of energy," I replied. "I think it take a lot out of you to be hypnotized for that long. Not to mention that it's been a very stressful few days."

Stan nodded silently. "Say, did you guys just rescue Eddie recently?" He asked, totally shocking me.

"How…how did you know that?"

He shook his head, looking unsure of himself, and more shocked then I felt. "There was something…it sounded like Bill. He told me to distract It while you saved Eddie. So that It wouldn't bother you. Your name is Sara, right?"

"Yes," I said. Although we had had no formal introduction, we both knew each other's names from the get-go.

He stopped talking for a while then, seemingly creeped out by Its death and his own intuition.

After about five minutes, the two that Stan had been sitting with earlier suddenly, as if on cue, stood up and ran outside.

"No!" Stan shouted. "If you go out then you're going to die!" But by the time he had finished his sentence, they were already out the door and running, his shoes thudding on the sidewalk, her skirt flapping slightly as she ran. And then there was a wet ripping noise, and the girl screamed. There was another rip then, a louder one, and her scream was cut short.

Stan slumped down on the bench again, and didn't say anything for a long, long time. Then, without warning, he looked up sharply and began speaking.

"I want to save them," he said. "I want to save them and everyone like them." He turned to face me, and looked me solidly in the eye for the first time since I'd met him. "I'm going back with you two."

I nodded gratefully, and then turned to Bill.

"I think we ought to wait here until he wakes up," I said. My head had stopped hurting, but I sensed that if I tried self-hypnosis again, then it would hit again, full force. Bill, when he awoke, would have a hell of a headache, but if he could go on, then so could I.

Another ten or fifteen minutes passed in solemn silence before Bill woke up. He turned his head and groaned. He tried to roll over, and nearly fell off of the bench, but Stan caught him.

"H-headache…" he mumbled, clutching his head, sitting up. He put his elbows on his legs and cradled his head. "S-Stan, you c-coming b-b-back with us?"

"Yes," Stan said. "But not now. You need some time to recuperate."

"He s-s-said something important," Bill said, looking at me with nearly wild eyes. "B-but only wh-when he w-was under." He looked up at me hopefully, as if begging me to understand; telling me with his eyes that he did not have the strength to expound any further. And suddenly, I did understand, and nodded the affirmative to him. Bill seemed satisfied, and lay down again and looked to be asleep in seconds.

"What was he talking about?" Stan asked. "Under…under what?"

"He was talking about a dream we had," I said. "One we shared. Well, not this part, I don't remember this part, but he told me about it in a dream, and confirmed it when I was awake."

"But what was he talking about?" Stan asked, totally mystified.

"He told me that I hypnotized you, and that you said something when you were. Something important," I said, looking up at him.

"So, so what? Are going to hypnotize me or something?" he asked with a shaky laugh, not seeming to take his own idea seriously. I just looked back at him, and did not smile. He saw my face and knew that I was serious about his idea. He sighed. "Alright, you can give it a shot."

I moved closer to him, but before I could do anything, he turned to face Bill.

"Is that going to happen to me if you can do this?" he asked nervously.

"How far is it, you think, from here to your clubhouse?" I asked him.

"'Bout an hour and a half, when walking. Why?"

"That's how long he was out. I tried it before, for just a minute, and nothing happened to him then. You will be fine."

"What if nothing happens? If I don't say anything, can I get back alone?"

"I don't know if it's possible for you to get back on your own," I said truthfully. "But I wont leave you under for more then few minutes."

Stan tugged his ear nervously, but nodded his consent. "Okay," he said. "Give it a shot, I guess. Please don't let that happen to me," he said, glancing nervously at Bill. Although Bill looked peacefully asleep now, I understood Stan's nervousness. Here he was, trusting his mind to a girl he'd only known for about an hour, who he only knew was okay because she was with a friend who'd dragged him into the sewers a few years back. For some reason, though, he did trust me enough to let me give it a shot.

So I leaned in to him, and fell solidly into his mind. Although I knew what I was doing this time, unlike my first time with Bill, I couldn't reach far into his mind before he completely blocked me out. It wasn't like when Bill did, a slight snarl, but more like a mental attack. I drew back as quickly as I would have if I'd sat on a pincushion.

I did know what I was doing, but the fact was that Stan was a lot more solid in his beliefs, unlike the other 'Losers,' who could simply accept changes and move on with it, Stan stood firm on the things that he knew about. This was why he could not accept me into his mind, because he believed that I couldn't and didn't want me there anyways, even if I could.

"Stan," I said. "You have to relax and let me in."

He nodded, but his face was pale, and he was twitching slightly as adrenaline ran through his body.

So I tried again. This time, he did not attack me, but instead put up some kind of shield. I knew that I couldn't enter his mind without his full consent, and even if I couldn't, I shouldn't force my way in. So I backed off again.

"Are you going to let me in?" I asked dubiously.

"I'm trying," he snapped. I could tell that he was angry with me, angry for making his friends run away, angry for trying to break into his mind.

"Do you want to try again?" I asked quietly.

"No," he said firmly. So we waited for a long time, until Bill woke up again.

"Wh-what…" his question trailed off as his memories came back. He sat up suddenly and looked behind him. Its body was still there, and It was still dead.

"Y-you k-k-killed It," he said happily.

"One of them, Bill," I replied. "How's the headache?" My own had since ceased.

"It's g-going down. B-but it c-c-could come b-back anytime."

We sat in silence for a minute, then Bill spoke again.

"D-did Stan s-s-say something important?"

"I can't hypnotize him," I replied.

"Wh-why not?"

"He wont let me. He's trying, but it's just not working."

At this, Stan looked at the ground. Bill looked up at Stan.

"Y-you have t-t-to let her, St-Stan," Bill said, sounding like a teacher or parent scolding a child for being bad. "It's n-n-not fun, b-but all our lives m-m-might depend on it."

Stan sat in silence for a minute, sighed, and then looked at me. "Alright," he said, "give it another shot."

So I tried again, without much hopes of anything happening differently then the previous attempts. And at first, nothing was. But then Bill grabbed Stan's arm, and I felt Bill's power. Even when filtered through Stan, it was still shocking how much strength was stored in him. Stan then relaxed, but he seemed to somehow be forcing himself to be relaxed, ending up more tense then before. However, he somehow left me room to get in.

If hypnotizing Bill had been rappelling down a well-lit cavern, then hypnotizing Stan was like squirming my way through a tight, unlit tunnel, straight down, headfirst. Disconcerting, to say the least. However, he had left me enough room to get through to his subconscious, and he did not trap me, as I understood that he easily could, had he chosen to do so. I was completely at his mercy.

He let me in, and when I drew back, he was gone. His eyes held not one spark of life in them. Even Bill, when I had first hypnotized him, and had worried about maybe having killed him, had that one spark. But with Stan, there was nothing. He looked like a robot, standing there, his eyes glazed over so heavily that his brown eyes seemed several shades lighter.

We watched him for a few minutes, but he sat there and said nothing.

"Bill," I said, after a couple of long minutes had dragged by, "he asked me to pull him out if nothing happens after five minutes."

"J-just wait a m-m-minute," he said, as though he knew something was going to happen.

I tugged on my ear nervously; hardly aware that I was doing it, hardly aware that it was a trait that I had picked up from Stan.

"S-Stan," Bill said to him, "is th-there s-something that you're g-g-going to so say?"

But Stan continued to stare vacantly ahead, giving no sign that he had heard Bill, if he had at all.

"A-alright," Bill said quietly to me. "Puh-pull him out."

So I leaned in again, and found myself walking across the plane in the blank mind to free Stan. But something was different, this time. In a way, Stan was not trapped in his own mind, but held at bay by some force.

'Stan?' I asked. I felt my real jaw moving some million miles or so away, but I was certain that I was not actually saying anything aloud. But here, in Stan's mind, he heard me loud and clear.

'I know what it is now,' came Stan's voice, echoing loudly in my head, altogether too loudly, echoing and bouncing around in my mind, burning in my brain, causing an agony beyond words. I fell to my metaphorical knees, completely helpless just from hearing his voice in his own mind.

'Whatever planet It's from, It has one sort of tradition that it shares with us: It buries Its own dead. And It will take all day."

I was simultaneously trying to concentrate on Stan and trying to block him out. I figured that if he talked for too long, then I would go crazy.

'You don't have to hypnotize Bill,' Stan continued in a gleeful tone (as though he understood that this was hurting me; this was payback for me struggling my way into his mind), 'and you can take me out of this. We can walk back. We have all day today to do so.'

I fought back unconsciousness (understanding that passing out in his head would be very bad indeed, for both of us) so I could find Stan and let him go. I understood now that not all of him had been free, only the parts of him that made intuition, empathy, understanding, and other tools that he had held at bay simply by disbelief. His rational, sane mind, the one that would remember none of this, had been stored away, and I let that part of him out.

And then, I was falling back, and I woke up, continued falling, and smacked my head hard on the bench. I had a headache again, but Stan seemed to be completely fine, save being a little freaked out.

"S-Sara?" Bill asked. "Are y-you alright?"

I nodded and sat up, holding my head. "I know what was so important," I said. "Stan went and told me, alright."

"I said something?" Stan asked, totally mystified.

"N-not out l-l-loud," Bill answered.

"Not out loud," I agreed. "It was in his mind, right before I woke him up."

"Wh-what'd he s-say?" Bill asked.

"It buries Its dead," I replied. "And it's going to take all day for the other two to do it. We just have to throw Its body out, and then the other two will be gone all day."

"W-we can g-get back, and get R-Richie and Mike w-with the r-rest of us," Bill continued. "We c-c-can finish r-regrouping today!"

I nodded. "But we need to throw It out, first," I said, glancing over at Its body. It's final form that It had died in looked somewhat like a spider.

"I don't want to touch It," Stan said. And I couldn't blame him. It was surrounded in a pool of Its own blood, and it clung to the hairs on Its legs.

"We need to get it out somehow," I said.

"L-let the other wuh-ones g-get It out," Bill said.

"How?" I asked. "None of them can get in here, right?

"T-tie it up," he said, nodding his head towards a coil of rope on the side of the church, "and we'll p-p-put out th-the other end wh-where They c-can reach it."

So Bill silently gathered the coil while I walked over to Its dead body, and Stan just watched. I considered the angles, and decided that maybe we should tie the rope around each of Its legs.

I bent down and put my left ring finger in Its pooled blood. I don't know why I did, maybe to be certain that Its blood wasn't acidic. At any rate, it was, or seemed to be. It burned like all out. I drew back my hand with a hiss, but when I wiped the blood off, my finger was fine. Its blood caused pain, but did not actually hurt me.

"Watch out," I said to Bill as he walked up with the rope, "Its blood burns."

He nodded, and then handed one end of the rope to me.

"So h-how do you th-think we should d-do this?" Bill asked.

"I think we should tie up each of Its legs with one end of the rope," I replied, "and leave the other end outside."

Bill and I got started, and as we worked, we talked. Not to each other, but to Stan. Catching him up on each of our stories, starting with Bills, because he was the leader, and then my story, simply because I was there. Then we told Ben and Bev's story, and last, Eddie's. As I was telling about how I had gotten Eddie back to the clubhouse without encountering It, except for at the end, what Stan had said about distracting It suddenly came back to me.

"Bill," I said, "Did you send out some kind of message to the others to keep us safe?"

"Y-yes," Bill said. "I c-could tell something w-was wrong, s-s-so I somehow sent a m-message to th-the others to k-keep it away f-f-from you two."

"Can you do it again?" I asked. "Get the others to get Mike while we look for Richie or vise versa? It would make things go quite a bit faster."

"I c-can try." Bill stood back, closed his eyes, and concentrated. His face scrunched up slightly, like it did when he stuttered.

He opened his eyes.

"I th-think they h-h-heard, but I'm n-not sure."

"Who are we going for?"

"W-we're going to f-find Richie."

"Okay," I said amiably as I tied the last knot. I walked to the door and threw a couple of feet of the rope out.

Almost immediately, invisible hands closed on the rope, and then began to pull on it. It was pulled out of Its blood, but It did not smear the blood, or continue bleeding. It left no trail as It left Its pool of blood with a slight popping sound.

"Creepy," Stan said quietly from his bench, sounding like he thought he was in a dream, and thus, totally calm.

I watched as the ropes dragged It out of the church, across the street a ways, and then down the drain.

"Wuh-one down," Bill said grimly.


	11. Chapter 10

CHAPTER ELEVEN

We had not yet decided who was to step out first.

Stan was not involved in our argument. He seemed to place self-preservation high on his list of priorities. He had stated once, just when we were starting, that we should wait for help here, but then had sat quietly on his bench again. No, it was Bill and I arguing. Although we were nearly certain in our minds that we were going to be safe stepping outside, our hearts truly believed that the first one out was going to die.

So we stood by the doorway, deciding, we were certain in our hearts, which of us was to die.

"If I die," I said, "it will not matter overall. I'm not important. I'm only here to get you guys into a group."

"B-but if you d-die, th-then you're l-leaving us s-stranded here," Bill shot back.

"Better stranded then dead."

"I c-can fight It, if I h-h-have to. You n-never have."

"You don't know if I can't, though. I'm willing to risk it."

"W-well I'm n-not," Bill said, and then he did one of the most courageous and spontaneous things I have ever seen: he jumped outside, ducking my hand, which had grabbed for him but missed.

On any other day, it would be such a simple thing to take a step outside. It was something so insignificant. And now, here we were, arguing and worrying about something we had done hundreds of times before. And Bill finally took the risk and jumped outside.

And nothing happened. He stood there, lifted his arms and shoulders in a shrug, and laughed aloud. I walked outside to join him, relishing the sun shining on my skin, and laughed, too. Stan, then, stood in the doorway, watched us for a minute, and then slowly walked outside to join us.

"C-come on," Bill said. "Let's g-go find R-R-Richie."


	12. Chapter 11

CHAPTER TWELVE

We wandered the streets of Derry for a long time, looking for Richie. I followed Bill, and Stan followed both of us, although we were all walking together. We did not find Richie the first hour we walked, or the second hour. We went to his house, the abandoned movie theater, all over Derry, it seemed. We did not find Richie, but there were a few others. Many dead, but a few alive, living now in a Safe Spot of their own.

Others, that watched us go by, one of us explaining each time that it was safe today to be out. Some thanked us and walked out, to get food or supplies, but most simply gawked in awe, most looking at Bill as they did so.

Nobody, except for the other Losers, had seen Bill like this. When It had come, this time and last, he was, as he is now, powerful. Most seemed not to recognize him as the boy in their class who sometimes had stuttered so badly that he sometimes could not speak the answer he had. Many, I was certain, regretted their previous thoughts and actions towards him.

When I had first met Bill, he was still just a kid, just one of the gang. He was as alone and helpless as any of us. But now, having taken the lead, he seemed to have somehow risen above that, to have reached a higher potential then I'd imagined was possible. He was almost a god-like figure, even to the passerby. It was hard to remember that he was still a kid too, one my own age, at that.

It was hard to imagine Bill making mistakes (gods don't make mistakes), so I was slightly dazed when, after several hours of wandering, we were no closer to finding Richie then when we had started. Bill was starting to look more and more frustrated. Stan, however, just numbly followed us, not looking up, just trudging along.

"Bill," I said, "maybe we should go back and hook up with the others."

He turned to face me, opened his mouth, closed it, and stopped to consider it.

"Maybe he's already there," Stan suggested.

"M-maybe he is," Bill said, amiably enough, but not believingly. "W-we should g-g-go back."

We had actually ended up pretty close to the clubhouse at this point, and it was only a few minutes before we were back into the Barrens, and a few more before we saw the clubhouse.

"Anyone there?" I called out cheerfully, yet feeling like I was going to collapse from all the walking we had done.

The door rose slightly, and a pair of eyes peeked out. The door fell, and then slammed open. The other end hit the dirt on the other side with a dull thud.

"Hey guys," Beverly greeted.

"D-did you g-g-get Mike?" Bill asked.

"Yes, they did," came an unfamiliar voice from inside. I looked over the edge and saw a black kid sitting inside.

"Hello," I said to him. "Did they tell you about me?"

"Yes," he replied. "Sara, right?"

I nodded.

"We c-couldn't f-f-find Richie," Bill said, almost apologetically, but not to Beverly or the others inside. Apologizing, in a way, to himself.

"We didn't think you would," Ben said.

"Wuh-why not?"

"I don't know, but something's off this time. We all agreed that it would have to take some sort of divine intervention to get all of the 'Losers' back together."

"Or a v-vision."

At this, all the others glanced around at each other nervously.

"Do we have enough time?" Beverly asked.

"It's going to be smoky, and we're going to have to live in it after," Eddie added. Eddie looked stronger now, more confident, as though he were ready, now, to fight. His readiness was only present because It was not. It would fade away when It was here.

"We could just go back to where I was if it's too smoky," Mike said.

"Where were you?" Stan asked.

"I was at that old lady's house. Agnes, that was her name. She's just up the road, 'bout a mile or so."

None of us asked, but all of us wondered exactly what made that place special to Mike; what had made it a Safe Place.

"We c-c-can do that," Bill said. "Let's g-get some f-f-firewood."

Everyone who was in the clubhouse climbed out and scattered. Ben walked (nearly waddling, his mass shifting from side to side with each step) off in a direction that leads, or so I had been told, to the standpipe. Beverly ran off to the thickest part of the wood, her flaming hair swishing side to side as she ran. Eddie picked a well-beaten path and walked at a set pace, his hand at his pocket, grasped around his aspirator. Mike walked back to the road, and walked along that way for a while. Stan just stood up, looked first north, then northeast, and then began to trudge off in that direction.

Bill simply stood there, looking off to the side, as if deep in thought. I walked up to him, hoping to find answers.

"What were you guys talking about?" I asked. My question seemed to snap him back into reality, and he looked up at me, surprised.

"It's s-some sort of ih-Indian ritual. Last t-time, we filled th-the clubhouse wuh-with smoke, and whoever w-was left h-had visions."

"Did you?"

"N-no. I almost w-was there, b-b-but I had to g-get out. It was R-Richie and Mike l-left there. They s-s-saw The Coming of It." His voice sounded edged and bitter. He had not stuck around long enough.

We sat down, and he filled me in on the last time he had done the Smoke Ceremony. Everything that had happened before, during, and after was told and stored away in some file in my mind. Several minutes after Bill had finished his story (after which he seemed to have drawn himself again), the others began to arrive again.

Eddie was first, having the smallest arms, and thus, the smallest load. And even if that hadn't been the case, I still think that Eddie, after having dealt with such an emotional trauma, would want to be back as soon as he could to company of any sort, but especially Big Bill. He dumped his wood in a pile next to the open clubhouse door, and then sat down next to us. None of us said a word.

Every one of them, as they came back, did the same. First Beverly, then Mike, then Ben, and Stan came last, carrying a small armful of the green wood, looking as though he had been wandering more then he had been wood-gathering. Eventually, we all sat together, no one looking another in the eye, but simply let something flow around us in the circle we formed.

The others all stood simultaneously. I stood a half-second later, following them, feeling like a fraud, like I was just trying to blend in, like all those years at the old junior high.

"L-let's get started," Bill said. The others nodded simultaneously. Some part of them had seemed to be lent out to something far greater, and I thought to myself, as they got started, that what was left was not enough for a human being to survive on for long. I had my mind now, and they didn't, and I had never felt so strongly to blend with them, even if I did have to sacrifice my mind for it.

They worked systematically, rhythmically, almost as if in a dance. But it was a dance meant for seven, and all I could do was take Richie's place and try to keep along. I fluxed in and out of their rhythm, occasionally brushing shoulders with someone, Ben, perhaps, or maybe Stan this time. They did not hit each other, as if they were a part of a machine, with each part working in unison.

I understood now better then ever that, no matter how much they had assured me before, I was not really a part of this. Not unless I was connected to them all. But I was not, not now, at least. Maybe that would come later. Something, some greater power, the turtle, perhaps, had taken whatever it was that I needed to be connected to them. So I was alone again, alone among others.

But nonetheless, I kept up for the most part, helping them systematically clear out their clubhouse and lay in the wood, and then we all stood back, all but Bill, and we watched him light the flame from a matchbox that Beverly had handed wordlessly to him. All the wood began to smolder, and everyone filed down the ladder and into the clubhouse. Beverly, the last one in, closed the door on top of us. The window was cut off, so we were left in the dark, and the Smoke Ceremony had begun.


	13. Chapter 12

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

I don't remember much about the Ceremony now. I remember it was dark, and it was cramped (at least, it was at first), and that it was progressively harder to breath in there. And anything that I can remember, I can only give the feeblest description of what really happened in there.

I remember re-establishing another connection to them in there. Every one of them seemed to come back to themselves. They were themselves again, and so I could be one of them.

"I think most of us are going through this time," Beverly said in a shaky voice, followed by a light coughing. It was quickly quenched.

"Most or all," Ben agreed.

"It's one hell of a trip, I can tell you that," said Mike, the only one present that could tell from experience what it had been like.

"Is it just me, or is it roomier in here?" I asked suddenly. I had been squished against Bill at first, with Stan's elbow at my side, but now I had enough space to move my elbows without brushing anything.

"It gets bigger," Eddie said. And although I could not see the others, I could feel their agreement.

"It's already looking bigger," Mike said.

"Wait, y-you can s-see?" Bill asked in the pitch-blackness.

"Sure, can't you?"

"N-no."

"Blue eyes," I said quietly.

"What?" Eddie, who had brown eyes, asked.

"Brown eyes adjust faster. Blue and green eyes take a lot longer time to."

"I'm glad to have brown eyes, then," Stan said.

"That's all good and well, but is this all that your future modern medical science can tell you?" Ben asked mockingly, and we all laughed at that, even though it really wasn't all that funny. We all just needed to laugh. Things had begun to get altogether too grim. More then a few of us ended that slightly hysterical laugh with a coughing fit. I had to keep on clearing my throat, but for the most part, I was doing okay.

Eddie, it seemed, would be the first one out. His asthma had kicked in, and I was wondering if it was considered 'cheating' if he used his aspirator at this point. However, he refused to use it, and the thought simply slid from my mind. No one was going to be cheating. This sort of ritual was sacred, and they understood that even better then I did.

We stayed down there, none of us leaving for what seemed like forever. Our meaningless chatter had ceased, and now it was just this competition.

My prophecy was proved false; Stan was the first to leave. He was coughing first, then hacking, then nearly dry retching.

"Sorry," he mumbled as he left and closed the door. We could here him hyperventilating outside in the clean air.

No one said anything, but Bill threw some more wood on the smoldering pile, and the temporarily semi-clear air clouded up again.

I moved over a little, a bit into Stan's spot. The burst of light had somehow condensed the place back to what it was originally. I could feel Eddie, who had been on the other side of Stan, also moving over.

And now, again, we waited.

The next one to leave shocked us all; reminded us that this was different then last time. Mike, this time, left the clubhouse, hacking and wheezing.

"Wow," Ben said after the door had shut again. "I thought for sure he'd make it again."

"I don't think it's just going to be a vision this time," I said suddenly. I heard my own voice, and wondered who had said it for a minute before I realized that it was me speaking.

"No?" Beverly asked, curious.

"No," I replied solidly, not explaining further, not having to, not being able to even if I had.

After seeing the last two go, I could sense a pattern. Right before they had left, they had started coughing and hacking uncontrollably. The next one out was no exception, and I caught a glimpse of Ben as the light flared up, and he ran out.

Now it was Eddie and Bill and Beverly and me left. Eddie seemed to be coughing harder then the others had before they had left, but I could almost see him force it down, right before it started up again. But still, he refused to leave.

I think, had Eddie been here for himself, then he would be long since gone. But he was here for us; as if he sensed that we would need him. Long minutes passed, and I could tell that whatever was going to happen, it would be us that did it. The only question was if Eddie would still be here for it.

I looked up at the others, my throat feeling rough and smoky. Their eyes had all turned red and blood-shot.

Long minutes passed, and my blue eyes slowly dilated, until I could make out just about everything in the clubhouse, in a shadowy silhouette, at least.

Finally, finally, Eddie's coughing stopped. "I'm not leaving," he said hoarsely. "I'm going to be here. It's going to be soon, and I'm going to be here."

I glanced over at Bill. My eyes had, at this point, adjusted enough to see his mouth open to reply to Eddie, but that's when it happened. He never got a word out.

We had all assumed that when it happened, that it would happen to all of simultaneously, that we would see where in Derry Richie was, so we could find him. I had never heard of this Smoke Ceremony before today, but I could already tell that that was simply not the way it worked. If would affect all of us, but it would not take any path in particular simply because we expected it to.

Whatever spirit was present took Bill, suddenly and completely.

Bill's eyes suddenly grew wide, and he threw himself violently against the wall. His eyes rolled up, and his feet drummed against the dirt floor, as if he was having some kind of seizure.

"Bill!" Beverly screamed. She ran around the smoke embers to get next to him. His arms were spasming, so I held them down. And whatever had gripped him left as suddenly as it had started. Or so it had seemed.

"What's going on in there?" Ben's voice shouted from above. I could barely hear him. It was distant and far away…and the roof looked to be miles high.

"Bill?" Beverly spoke again, this time soft and hesitant.

"No," came a deep and powerful voice from Bill's throat. I had heard power from Bill before, had heard it when we were getting Stan, had felt it and had reflected on it from time to time, but none of that could compare to this. The only source of power that I could possible imagine that was like this was the turtle that I had met on my way to Derry.

"This is who you call 'The Turtle,'" it said through Bill. "Or sometimes Maturin. And you need to finish this here business of getting yourselves together."

Maturin then stood up on Bill's legs. I wondered frantically how Bill could channel this vast ocean of power and live afterwards. But Maturin looked at me and smiled, a smile that just looked so alien on Bill's face; so different from Bill's.

"I think your friend's going to be fine," he said to me. But I could somehow hear Bill, the real Bill,

(what are you doing i'm not going to be fine this is too much oh god STOP)

somehow disagreeing from somewhere far away. But there was nothing I could do. I nodded grimly. Maturin then turned to Eddie, and said

"And don't even think that. That's not going to happen," he said incomprehensively. But Eddie slowly nodded, as though reassured. Maturin then stood up, lifted Bill's arm, and pulled down, warping the air, pulling it down as if it were nothing more then a backdrop. And there Richie sat, somewhere in a dark, cramped space, gazing vacantly out.

And then Maturin was gone, and Bill collapsed. Maybe he was dead, and if that were the case, then we were certainly doomed. His hand flopped out and into the embers (which had seemed to stop spewing out smoke entirely, for now at least) and immediately started a slow burn, but he did not stir. Eddie grabbed him out and pulled him into the corner of the clubhouse. Beverly and I reached through the opening, the hole in the air, and we each grabbed one of Richie's hands. He jumped at our touch.

"Hey!" he shouted. "Now just wait one foin minute here yeh buckaroos…" he said in the voice of some sort of Irishman, but Beverly and I pulled him up and through. As we did, the gap in the air disappeared. He landed squarely on top of Beverly.

His eyes widened in shock, but he quickly masked it with another charade:

"Don't tell Bill. You know how jealous he gets," he said in a stage whisper.

"Let's get out of here," I said. "This whole ceremony gives me the creeps."

"Lawks-a-mussy!" Richie exclaimed, looking at me curiously. "I d'clare, a girl down in this parts! Lawks-a-mussy, lawks-a-mussy."

"Beep-beep, Richie," Beverly muttered. "I agree, let's get out of here. Can you give us a hand with Bill?"

All the joking around suddenly left Richie, as he looked up and saw Bill limp in the corner, looking like a corpse.

"Is he alright?" he asked, sounding worried, the most real emotion that I had seen on him.

"We don't know," I said. "Let's just get him out of here." I started coughing then, and I thought briefly that, had the Smoke Ceremony continued, had the smoke been drifting out this whole time, then I would have ran out just about now.

Beverly climbed up the ladder and shoved the door wide open. The smoke immediately began clearing out, improving visibility and breathing. I took a moment to close my eyes against the smoke's sting and to take a few breaths. Richie grabbed Bill, supporting under his knees and holding his back like a baby, and hauled him to the top before climbing out himself. Eddie followed quickly behind. Beverly climbed up next, and I crossed the clubhouse and climbed up last.

"Richie?" Stan asked dubiously, as though ascertaining the existence of his friend.

"In the flesh," Richie responded with a casual shrug and tipped his head slightly sideways.

Ben and Mike, however, seemed not to notice Richie at all, as though his arrival from the clubhouse was routine, and ran to Bill. Mike hovered worriedly while Ben took his pulse.

"He's alive," Ben said, obviously relieved.

"What happened down there?" Mike asked. But Richie was talking to Stan and Eddie was quietly having an asthma attack and Beverly was wrapped up with Bill and I was doubled over coughing, so no one answered for a long time. But eventually, my lungs cleared out, and I could look up.

"It was Maturin," I said. "It was the turtle. That's what did that to Bill." I found myself hating this turtle, the one that had dragged me away from everything I had known, and at the same time, loving him for bringing me here, for giving me a second chance.

"How?" Ben asked. So I slowly went over what had happened just a few minutes ago. It already seemed much longer ago then that. I had to stop sometimes to think, and I paused often to correct myself. Everything was a blur, and here I was, trying to make sense of it. But they seemed to understand what I was saying, although I hardly did myself.

"He's waking up," Beverly announced, just as I had finished my recount.

Ben and Mike and I walked up to him. Richie and Stan had been conversing right next to him, so they just turned around. And Eddie slinked in from the side of the clearing he had crawled to. His breathing was fine now.

Bill's eyes fluttered; then snapped open. He saw us grouped around him in a loose semi-circle. He seemed stronger then ever, despite not being able to stand up. And maybe my part in this was over, but I had done what the turtle had wanted me to do. They, or maybe it is we, were all together now. And now that we were, we could make a real stand. The fight had finally begun.

END PART ONE


	14. part two, chapter one

PART TWO

CHAPTER ONE

"Can you shoot a slingshot?" Ben asked me, quietly, so as not to wake the others.

_After Bill had woken up yesterday, we had decided to go to Mike's Safe Spot, because smoke was still drifting around inside the clubhouse, and Mike's spot was the closest._

"Don't know," I replied. "I've only ever shot arrows."

_We had grabbed everything we needed. I had attached my quiver to my hip and had balanced the bow across my chest, leaving my hands free. The others had left the food and drinks, but they had grabbed everything else that seemed necessary that could not be found at the house. By the time we were ready, the sun was slowly setting._

"I guess an arrow might work," Ben mused aloud, half to himself, and half to me, "but it would have to be dipped in silver, I think."

_Our casual walk had turned into a mad sprint when Bill reminded us that, while it would take all day for It to bury Its dead, all bets were off for the night. The sun was half-hidden behind trees, and we were only, according to Mike, halfway there._

"Is a silver-dipped projectile really going to kill It?" I asked.

_By the time the house came into view, night had fallen completely. And we could all sense that It was coming. So we ran even faster._

"It almost did last time," he replied. "If we'd had one more shot, then we could've saved ourselves a lot of trouble."

_No matter how fast It was, we could have made it easily into that house at the rate we were going. But Eddie, who had never run this far this fast before, combined with his terror of It, simply passed out while running. His hands flew up instinctively, breaking his fall, but he did not get up._

"Does it have to be from a slingshot, do you know?" I asked Ben.

_Bill had stopped first, and Richie almost plowed into him. We had all stopped then, all of us panting for breath. Bill turned and ran back to Eddie, and then lifted him, as Richie had lifted Bill himself last night, holding under his knees and supporting his back. Eddie's head lolled back._

"If you can shoot arrows with more accuracy then any of us with a slingshot, then you should probably do that," Ben said. "I'm almost positive that that will work just as well. It's the silver that counts."

_We had resumed running then, all of us slowing down for Bill. We could here It now, and we knew that It was closing in. Still, no one had run any faster. Stan, for just a second, had looked ready to sprint, but he had stayed behind with the rest of us. I wondered, briefly, if our second interlude with It would be here and now._

"Are you expecting me to shoot?" I asked.

_I was the first to see It. One of the two remaining, at least. For me, it had always been the phantom figure, nothing that could be brought down or killed. But now, it looked like an animal. Richie had started gibbering then,_

_(oh god, it's the werewolf)_

_but to me, it just looked like prey. My bow, already strung, was off my chest in a heartbeat, and an arrow was strung just as fast. Get going! I had shouted to the others. I shot, strung another, shot again, strung another, shot. I heard one make contact, and then It was gone. But not gone, though… just changing form. It was then that I ran to catch the others._

"It might be you," Ben responded. "It's mainly whoever can shoot the best. It was Bev last time, by a long shot. None of us were really good at it. Bev had a shot that none of us could match."

_The Losers were already there, and they had the doorway open. I heard the phantom's swish as It closed in, and I thought that I was dead for sure. I was calm, though. I knew I had accomplished my purpose, that I had done what the turtle had sent me to do, and I could die knowing that maybe, I had made a difference. Saved a life or saved the world._

"How are we going to test that?" I asked. "Are we going to shoot in the house?"

_As it closed in, the others, grouped at the doorway, had shouted for me to dive. It had sounded absurd, them shouting dive! dive! just like in a baseball game or something, and I had to fight down hysterical laughter as I propelled off of the second-to-last step on the porch, diving for the doorway, one hand stretched out. I knew that I was not going to make it._

"Yes, probably. I guess the lady who lives here won't mind, knowing we had done it to save Derry, possibly the world."

_I landed half inside, and half out. The Losers had grabbed my hands and arms, and I felt It's grip tighten on my ankle._

"And the silver? Where's that going to be coming from?"

_It started gnawing on my foot, the same foot, and I had shouted to it then: you got some kind of fucking foot fetish? let me alone _

"I found a couple sets of earrings. I already checked them out, they're pure silver. And Mike said last night that he saw a blowtorch in the garage, so we can melt them down."

_My fear had turned entirely to rage, and I think that that was the reason It hesitated, why It's grip loosened just enough for The Losers to pull me through._

"Is the garage safe?"

_It had dug in deeply this time, and I had wrapped it up in a bandage that Mike had found in the lady-who-lived-here's bathroom cabinet. I could just walk on it, but it did hurt._

"I'm not sure, but if It can get onto the porch alright, I think anything outside the main house should be considered unsafe."

_The night previous, we had found food for dinner in the pantry, and we all slept in the same room, the living room. Bill and Eddie had shared one of those beds that were folded into the couch, Stan had slept on the couch adjacent to the first one, and the rest of us had pulled out sleeping mattresses and sleeping bags. I had fallen asleep quickly, but I imagined that the others had stayed up later, probably talking with each other. The next morning, before anyone besides Ben and I had woken, he had crept soundlessly to me, and had asked me if I could shoot a slingshot._

"Then I guess once Mike wakes up, I can get him to go and get the blowtorch."

"God, this is like a bad dream," Ben said quietly. "I just keep expecting to wake up, but I just don't."

"I know what you're talking about," I said quietly. "It feels so surreal when I wake up, like maybe it was all a dream, like maybe I'm still dreaming now."

Ben sighed. "Well, the others will be up soon, and we can talk about what to do then."

I looked over at the others, all sleeping, and felt another wave of unreality hit me then. This was like being in a movie, or a book, maybe. The way things were happening all seemed so pre-planned that it was scary.

As my gaze fell over Eddie, he turned over in his troubled sleep. He seemed to be having nightmares again. He suddenly shouted out and woke up, waking everyone else up, too.

Bill, his instincts having been sharpened to a deadly point by now, threw himself away from the noise, over and off the bed, nearly landing on Richie, who had pulled out a mattress next to the bed the previous night. His arm was promptly tangled in Richie's sleeping bag, which Richie then forced his way out of.

"Now Bill," Richie said, sounding much calmer then he had any right to be, having just been startled awake, "We discussed this already. I just don't like you like that."

"Eat sh-shit and d-die," Bill said lightheartedly as he wrenched his arm free. We all laughed at that. I was amazed that we still could laugh. Even Eddie was laughing now, although shakily, nearly hyperventilating. He reached for his aspirator. No one asked him about his dream, but accepted it and moved on.

"Gonna get some breakfast," Beverly murmured after a minute as she stood up and walked in to the kitchen. We all stood up and followed her, all except for Big Bill and Eddie. We raided the pantry, the cupboards, and the refrigerator until we had found something we wanted to eat. It was mostly cereal and junk we had pulled out, but Beverly had found some canned peaches, and was searching the cabinets for a can opener.

I could here Bill and Eddie talking, Eddie, sounding shaky but mostly okay, and Bill, sounding as confident as ever. Just as Beverly had found the opener and had started sawing off the top of the can, they stopped talking.

"What…" Eddie asked, and trailed off. There were suddenly footsteps, running towards the kitchen. Bill appeared at the doorway, panting slightly.

"What h-h-happened?" he asked, his eyes wide and shocked.

"Nothing," Mike answered, confused. "Nothing hap-"

His reassurance was cut of when Beverly screamed. Her left hand was suddenly coated in blood, and the jagged side of the can's lid clattered to the floor.

"Wh-what happened?" Bill asked frantically again, this time to Beverly.

"Cut my fingers off, oh God, I cut my fucking fingers off…"

This was an exaggeration. Although the blood had coated her hand too thickly to tell much of anything, there were obviously no missing digits. All the same, the way the blood spurted up was very unnerving, and I wondered if there were veins in fingers, if she could bleed to death just from a cut finger. But it slowed after about another ten seconds (as it did, Eddie appeared at the doorframe and hovered there, looking pale and worried about whatever had just happened), and stopped flowing after thirty. Ben, who had bolted out after just few seconds, returned with bandages, similar to the one I was wearing on my foot. He wordlessly took Beverly's hand, looked it over, took her to the sink, washed her hand off (grimacing when she cried at the pain), and wrapped her first two fingers with the bandage.

"Thank you, doctor Benjamin," Beverly said shakily when he had finished.

"You're going to be okay," he said, smiling, falling neatly into a doctor role, "Just stay off it for two weeks."

"You knew," Stan said to Bill accusingly. "You ran in before she cut herself."

"We both heard her scream, and Bill ran in," Eddie said, still standing at the doorway.

Bill seemed about to add something to that, but that's when Its face appeared in the kitchen window. It was, again, a clown, as it often appeared to be when the entirety of the Losers was together.

"Did someone get a cut?" It asked in Its mocking, false-concern voice. Eddie squeaked and ran behind Bill. "Hiya Eddie!" It cried out cheerfully. "You got away once, but don't worry, it won't happen again!" Eddie trembled violently and paled even more then he had before. The others seemed set and grim, and they all stood up and walked to Bill's side. I, too, got up and joined them.

Two things suddenly dawned on me. The first that while It couldn't actually get in here, It could still make bad things happen. That's what It does; make bad things happen. The second was that the only thing keeping It at bay was our belief that It wouldn't come in, combined with some sort of magic of each place that had always been special to one of us. But the magic of the places was fading now (I had no reason for believing this but my own intuition, and maybe something from the turtle), especially since this was only one of the special places to one of us, to Mike. The magic was only being held intact by our own beliefs. At this point, if a door opened, or if a window was lifted as little as an inch, then It could enter. And It would kill us.

The second thought was important now, the first came back to haunt us later.

Bill, muttering darkly, walked across the kitchen and grabbed several knives from the knife rack. He turned and was about to throw one through the window, but I ran and caught his wrist before he could let fly.

"L-let me g-g-go, S-Sara," he said furiously.

"Bill, if you break that window, It's going to get in."

"C'mon, bucko!" Pennywise shouted from outside. "Free shot!" Pennywise then threw his head grotesquely to the left and back, leaving a perfect shot at his neck.

"A knife can't kill Pennywise," I said, trying to ignore It, trying to get Bill to ignore It. "A knife is only going to open the window for It." I looked out, and It had somehow placed a target symbol on Its neck.

"Who are you going to believe?" I asked. "Me or that clown?"

Bill, shaking with fury, slowly lowered his hand. For a second, I thought he would bring it up again and fire the knife off before I could do anything about it, but it stayed down.

Richie, who, along with the others, had simply been watching the banter, suddenly ran forwards, and began speaking in one of his voices, one that I had never heard before.

"Now why don't you just run along now," he said in a fussy, rushed voice. "We've got some work to do, plans to make, and other important things to do none of which include you, so chop-chop now!" he said. Voices cannot pierce glass, but it did pierce Pennywise's ears. He clutched his ears, sunk below sight line, and then It was gone.

"What kind of Voice was that?" Ben asked.

"Dunno," said Richie, sounding every bit as perplexed as we all did. "Just popped out."

Secretly, I thought that that one sounded like a parent, or some sort of powerful authority. Whatever it was, it had done the trick. It was gone, and It was not coming back, at least, not for a while.

"Please don't tell me you're left-handed," I said quietly to Beverly. I had been trying to find something to say that would take attention away from It. Bill still looked about ready to beat the shit out of something, Eddie still looked on the verge of passing out, and Stan was now sitting quietly in a corner, gazing out vacantly, as though refusing to believe in any of this. I was hoping that I would bring hope to the Losers, with half of them so dispirited, figuring that the odds were good that she was not, and that that would remind everyone that she could still shoot, that everything was still in check. However, I realized a half-second after I had said that that It had done this, and It had aimed to cause as much damage as possible. Duh, of course she was left-handed.

I was not surprised when she looked away, and nodded. "Yes, I am."

"Can you shoot right-handed?" Ben asked, probably, too, attempting to bring some life back into this place.

"I'm not too good at it," she said. "But I can try."

"Let's give it a shot," Mike said. I looked up at him and realized that he had been drawing something with a pencil and a sheet of paper, his breakfast since finished. He lifted one up and showed it to us. It was a target symbol, with alternating gray and white stripes.

Everyone looked at it thoughtfully, all except for Bill. He glanced up once, looked away, but then took a double take, eyes wide.

"Wuh-why'd you d-draw…" his voice trailed off as he stared at the makeshift target.

"To shoot at, Bill," Mike said apprehensively, after he saw that Bill was not going to finish his question.

Bill blinked rapidly, closed his eyes, shook his head, and looked at it again in confusion. "N-never mind," he said slowly. "Let's sh-shoot."


	15. part two, chapter two

CHAPTER TWO

Mike had found some scotch tape, and had taped up eight targets to the wall, each a couple of feet apart.

Eddie, who had calmed down, shot first. He shot five with my bow, shooting arrows, and five with the slingshot, shooting rocks (that I had easily enough gotten from the driveway through my hypnosis, which was becoming easier and easier to do). He missed the first four with the slingshot, the rocks becoming embedded in the walls off to both sides. The last one ripped through the paper, but did not actually hit the target. The arrows he shot came nowhere near the target.

"I'm still just kinda nervous," he said, apologizing for his shooting.

Ben was next. His last two shots on the slingshot hit the top of the target and the bottom in perfect symmetry. The last two arrows hit on the left and right side, but nothing actually hit the target.

"I don't know what happened," said Ben. "I can usually shoot just fine. There's something funny about that target."

Beverly was after Ben, shooting awkwardly right-handed. Even so, she did better then Ben, with two of five on the slingshot, both hitting the outside of the target, and one arrow struck right next to the left side of the paper.

"I'm not shooting well," Beverly said, "It's partially because I'm using my bad hand, but I could have done better. That target kept…flickering. Or something like that."

Stan reluctantly picked up the slingshot next, and shot. He didn't hit any with the slingshot, but hit two with the arrows, one on the outside, the other about halfway between the target and the outside, the closest that any of us had gotten to a bulls-eye. He mumbled something about nerves, refusing to look at the target as he stepped down.

Mike grabbed for the bow first, and hit one, slightly off to the side. He didn't hit any with the slingshot, but all his misfires came close to the target.

"I saw something…something that I didn't draw on the target. It was right in the center," Mike said. The others had nodded in understanding.

"Is s-s-something screwing around w-with our aim?" Bill asked. He had calmed down when Eddie had recovered, but even then, he threw an occasional dark glance to the window. Now, though, he was fully absorbed with the task at hand.

"Don't know, let's give it a shot!" Richie said in another Voice, a sort of rough-and-tumble one. He jumped up and began firing rapidly; his eyes not focused much at all, as though he were not trying whatsoever.

"Richie, be serious about this," Beverly said. But she noticed then that almost all of his shots had hit. He had hit one bulls-eye, two close to the bulls-eye, one on the paper but off the target, and one close to the paper's right side, right next to the target. Richie, not noticing his shots, picked up my bow, took off his glasses, and rapidly shot off another five, two hitting the outside edges, the other three hit the wall on either side.

We all stared in silence. Richie smiled, replaced his glasses, and looked at his handiwork. Then he took a double-take, and stared in silence, too. Any shots that he had missed, he had come amazingly close to hitting.

"But you weren't aiming!" Beverly exclaimed. "You weren't even trying! You never shoot that well!"

"Well, if it's the target that's making you all shoot so bad, I figured I shouldn't look at it," Richie said uncomfortably, his voices laid aside for now, and, for once, he seemed serious and thoughtful.

Bill, without a word, picked up the slingshot. He aimed first, then actually closed his eyes and let it go. It hit dead center. He looked up and nodded, as though confirming a suspicion. The second one he aimed briefly, and then fired. This one landed a few feet away from the target. The third, he closed his eyes without aiming, and it landed closer to the target the one that he had aimed had.

"What is going on?" Ben asked. None of answered his question, but continued watching Bill.

His forth shot, he took careful aim, and it misfired by a long shot. For the last one, he aimed carefully, holding it up much longer then need be. Suddenly, he yelped, and let go of the end, firing off the projectile, which shot high up on the wall (which looked, at this point, much like Swiss cheese), far from the intended target.

"It's th-that clown!" He exclaimed in sudden understanding. "It's in h-h-here with us. Th-that's what's m-messing with the t-t-targets."

As I watched, the other's eyes brightened, as though a veil had been lifted. They suddenly understood.

"That's it, Big Bill," Mike said. "That's what's been bugging us."

"It can't get in," I said, voicing my thought I'd had earlier. "But It can cause a whole lot of trouble in here."

Bill picked up my bow and strung an arrow with ease. He drew back and shot, firing like a natural, but the shot was far off. They should have hit, by all means, every one was an excellent shot, but every one of them missed. He handed me my bow and quiver.

I picked up the bow and shot smoothly. As I shot, however, I saw the target flicker, as though the lines were rearranging themselves. They formed the vague image of a clown, of Pennywise, and the surprise that followed made for an unsteady shot. Still, though, it only missed the paper by about six inches.

'Help me shoot steady,' I thought, with no idea who was hearing it. But I felt some sort of connection established, with someone or something. And it was some force of good, something that could indeed help my shots.

I drew back again, and this time, my hands were steady. I looked straight at the target, and it transformed before my eyes into the clown's face, the bulls-eye square on It's forehead. I shot, and it hit dead center.

I drew back again and shot, and that was when I noticed that something was a little off. Then I realized that I was shooting right handed, and that was somehow throwing me off. I am right-handed for the most part, but for archery, I am ambidextrous. Which hand I was shooting with shouldn't have made much of a difference, but it did. So I switched to my left hand, aimed, and shot again.

When it landed right next to the other, nearly on the bulls-eye, I walked forward to pull out the two, and continued shooting. As I shot the last one, I glanced over at Beverly. She was not watching, but looked to be nearly asleep. I realized that she was the one that I was connected to. Beverly, who was left-handed. Beverly, who had always had the steadiest hands.

When I picked up the slingshot, it seemed bulky and unsuited to my hands. When I pulled it back, it felt all wrong. But somehow, I still managed to pound the bulls-eye in, until it was completely blotted out. Every time I was convinced it would misfire, but each time, it hit perfectly.

"I think we have our shooter," Stan said quietly.

"I don't know if I can do it again," I said. "Pennywise was interfering with us."

"You did best even with Its interference," said Beverly, who had woken up.

"It wasn't just me," I said. "There was…something else."

Beverly nodded. "I think I was helping you."

"Is why you started shooting with your left hand?" Eddie asked.

"I think so," I said.

"Y-you'll do f-fine," Bill said.

I nodded glumly then. "I don't want to shoot, though."

"That's what Bev here said last time," Richie said. "You're a good shot, so shoot."

"If I mess up," I said, "it's going to be my fault."

"You're not going to mess up," Ben said quietly.

"Alright, I'll shoot," I said regretfully. "I don't want to, but I guess I don't have a choice."

Bill nodded. "Alright, l-let's tip the arrows in s-sil-vher, and m-make some s-silver projectiles."

"How?" Ben asked suddenly. "If we so much as unlock the door, It's going to come in and kill us."

"We'll do what we did last time," Beverly said after a moment of silence. We linked hands, made a circle."

"I don't think that's going to work this time," Ben said. "It was different when we were in the sewers."

"I think if it worked then, then it'll work now. Pennywise—It—is more powerful now, but there is still something powerful left in this spot. It's a Safe Spot, right? The Safe Spots aren't as strong now, but I think that we can hold It off for a while. Until someone gets the blowtorch."

"We can keep it away, see if we can't!" Richie said in another Voice. 'He seems,' I thought, 'to have more thoughts in his Voices then he does his own.'

"I guess Richie could keep It away with his Voices if he needs to," Ben said, relenting.

"Are we doing it now?" Eddie asked quietly. He had gone pale again.

"I th-think the s-s-sooner the better," Bill said. "S-Sara, hypnotize Mike, and get him to g-g-get the blowtorch."

"Alright Bill," I murmured.

"What's it like?" Mike asked as I walked over to him. He sounded nervous and thoughtful, but mostly thoughtful. I didn't think I would have much trouble getting into his mind.

"You're going to wake up somewhere with no memory of moving, and you'll probably be holding the blowtorch. You're going to be here, and then you're going to be back here in an instant."

Mike nodded, closed his eyes, opened them, and nodded again. "Go ahead."

I leaned in again, looking as though I were about to soul kiss him. His eyes were very dark brown, and that somehow made it harder to penetrate. But I did, and I was in his mind. I sensed resistance, and that was natural, but instead of recoiling, I stayed for just a minute, and waited for it to pass. It did, and I entered.

Mike's mind, if it were to be compared to a cave, was expansive, and there was a walkway. But there were holes everywhere, little nooks and crannies, all filled with facts and figures. Some that could injure if I was not careful. There were a few false paths, too. I had to be careful, and I had to move slowly, but I was in now. After a short while, I could shove Mike's real mind aside, and I could backtrack my way out.

When I came back to myself, Mike was gone. He gazed vacantly out. I looked up at the others. Bill nodded to me, and then to Ben, who then stepped forward.

"Mike, you need to go out into the garage and get the blowtorch, and bring it in here. Do you understand?"

Mike slowly nodded, stood up, and walked to the garage. The rest of us quickly formed a circle and linked hands. I held Eddie with my left hand, and Beverly's injured hand gently with my right.

Mike opened the door, and there It was. Pennywise stood there, blocking the entrance. But It did not seem to see Mike. It walked, almost bounced into the room. Mike slipped out when It was inside.

"Hello Bill, Ben, Stan, Beverly, Eddie, Richie, and Sara," It growled. "Would any of you like balloons?" The air was suddenly full of them. I could no longer see across the circle we had formed. I closed my hands tighter, and Beverly let out a sharp cry as I squeezed on her injured hand. Her cry seemed, somehow, to blow the balloons away. Enough, at least, so that I caught a glimpse of Richie on the other side.

None of us answered It. Where the other one was, we didn't know, only that we had to deal with this one for now. The others shifted uncomfortably, but no one looked up, no one made eye contact, with each other or with It.

"Holding hands isn't going to help you!" It said gleefully. Eddie's hand was suddenly hot and sweaty, and I heard him making low whimpering sounds in his throat. It walked around our circle, right behind Eddie.

"D-don't let g-g-go, Eddie," Bill said, who was on Eddie's left. "D-don't even look up."

"Boo!" It shouted as It grabbed Eddie's side. Eddie jumped, took a step forward, and almost seemed about ready to run, but Bill and I tightened our grips and pulled him back into place. Eddie grabbed my hand furiously, and I could see him doing the same to Bill, but Eddie stayed in place. He closed his eyes.

"It c-can't get you," Bill said to Eddie. "N-n-not if you stay."

It walked around to the other side of the circle, to Stan, the other weak link, who held on to Beverly's good hand.

"C'mon, Stanny-boy, aren't you going to leave? Let's blow this joint! You can float in the Deadlights forever!"

"I'm not leaving my friends," Stan said clearly, as though he were taking Its banter seriously.

"No, not now you're not. Give it a few more years." It looked up at all of us, as though about to speak an important announcement.

"He leaves yah, you know," It said, as though trying to sound sad, but failing miserably. Its voice was positively gleeful. "The nigger calls him back so he goes and kills himself and then he floats in the Deadlights with me." It wasn't racist, and It couldn't have cared less about the color of Mike's skin. However, Mike had lived with that name for so long that it would have been like punching an open wound. If he had been there, then it may have had an effect. However, Pennywise seemed not to notice that Mike was not there.

"Stan would never do that," Beverly snapped. "None of us would."

Pennywise laughed and clapped his hands, then did a few back handsprings on his way out the door.

We stayed together for a minute, all of us wondering where Mike was, and if it was safe to let down our guard. Eddie still held my hand in a death grip, and it had begun to turn numb. I didn't have the heart to tell Eddie, who was covered in sweat, to let up. But I thought that he might have left bruise marks by now.

"It's gone now, Eddie," I said reassuringly. Eddie did not respond, but slightly eased up on my hand, enough so that I could feel it.

"I need…" he gasped, "my aspirator…" he gasped again.

"Just hang on a minute," Ben said. "It's cool. Just stay calm. You're alright."

After another minute, Mike walked through the door, carrying the blowtorch. He set it down on the ground and closed the door.

We all let our hands drop then, and Eddie lunged for his aspirator. He took a few deep, gulping breaths from it, then looked up to the rest of us.

I walked across the room to Mike, where he stood dumbly, swaying slightly. I leaned in, found where he had been pushed aside to, and let him out.

"What?" he asked, dazed.

"You got it," I explained. He looked down and saw the blowtorch lying on the ground.

"How strange," he said placidly. "What exactly happened?"

"When you left, we formed a circle, and It couldn't get us, although it sure as hell tried," Ben said.

"It was trying to get us to not trust each other," Beverly added.

"It lied," Stan said quietly. "That's what It does. You don't believe any of what it said, do you?" He glanced nervously around at the group.

"You wouldn't do that," Beverly said fiercely.

"Do what?" Mike asked, confused.

"It said that Stan would kill himself before he would come back again," I answered.

"I don't believe that, Stan," Mike said. "That's bullshit."

Stan nodded, as though reassured. But I secretly wondered if that wasn't exactly what he was going to do. Why else would he have been so worried about their believing it? But I shoved that far from the front of my mind. Suspicion would only hamper our extermination project.

"Let's get started," said Ben.


	16. part two, chapter three

CHAPTER THREE

We went into the lady-who-lived-here's (what'd Mike say her name was?) room, searching for silver-looking jewelry. We made a large pile on the rug, and waited while Ben and Stan observed the jewelry, sorting out the real silver from the fake. The rest of us, who could have no more flew to China by flapping our arms then told the difference from real and fake jewelry, had sat in a group and waited quietly. I had de-strung my bow, and it lay across my lap. After a few minutes, Stan stood up and started putting some back, while Ben walked over with a handful of silver earrings, necklaces, and bracelets.

"These are real," he said. "They can be used."

And so, for the next several hours, we melted them down, and dipped all of my arrow's tips in the molten silver. It coated smoothly, looking like a shiny icing. We strung them upside-down, so that the silver dripped down. What was left of the silver was set in molds, which looked, or so they had told me, almost exactly like the ones that they had used last time. They had taken them from their clubhouse, where they had gotten it previously while Bill and I were out, getting Stan.

While we were waiting for the silver to harden, Beverly pulled out game from a cabinet in the living room that made the others smile sadly. The game was Monopoly.

"I remember that," Eddie said.

"Good times," Stan added dully.

Beverly unfolded the board and set out the pieces. We all sat on the floor, grouped around it.

"I g-guess we don't h-h-have to worry about m-my parents coming home th-this time," Bill said wistfully. We all paused in the setting up then and thought about before, before Its created apocalypse. I considered for the first time if I would even be able to get home later.

"I guess I could just send up a prayer to that big turtle in the sky," I said under my breath, and laughed softly.

"What?" Ben asked, perplexed.

"This is just so much like living the Wizard of Oz. When I want to go home, I'll just pray to the big turtle god to be sent there. And he might actually do something."

Ben smiled, but did not laugh.

We finished setting up, and played a couple of games. After the first two games, we stopped for lunch.

"I'm telling you, they're teaching Jews how to make money. That's what they're talking about up at their freakin' synagogues," Richie said. He had been the first bankrupt.

Stan didn't say anything, but he did look up and crack a smile, which was a rare thing to see on his face.

"You're just jealous of his money-making skills," I said, smiling. Stan had won both games, just pulling out ahead of us in the game in time to win.

"Why would I be jealous of a Jew?" Richie asked. "At least I can live knowing that I didn't kill Christ."

"That was his dad, Richie," Ben said. I glanced up at Stan to see how he was taking this. I did not know at that point that those were Stan's own words.

We all raided the kitchen for food again (the supply was rapidly decreasing with eight teenagers living in the house), and all of us were careful around the canned food and knives.

"R-remember that It c-c-can still cause t-trouble," Bill had advised us. And he had refused to let me, as their shooter, touch anything or stand near anything that could be potentially dangerous.

"But I want cantaloupe!" I said. There was a ripe cantaloupe sitting in front of me, but Bill refused to let me use the knives. "And I'm ambidextrous! I can shoot without a couple of fingers."

"B-but Bev c-can't help you if y-you're s-s-strictly right-handed."

"Then you cut it," I had replied, tossing the cantaloupe to him. Bill, grumbling good-naturedly, had taken it across the kitchen to cut it for me.

"What?" I asked rhetorically, "Are you worried that the knife's going to slip and fly up and stab me?" Just then, the knife did slip. Bill pulled his hand away quickly, and narrowly avoided loosing a few fingers.

"Th-that's wuh-why," he said, fighting hyperventilation.

"You alright, Bill?" Mike asked.

"Awe, did oo hurt your finger?" Richie cooed. "Does joo need me to kiss it and make it better?"

"K-kiss this," Bill said, flipping Richie off.

"Now see, that was totally uncalled for," Richie said matter-of-factly.

Beverly, who had gone to check the silver molds, came back with my quiver stuffed with arrows and something in her pocket was jingling.

"Here," she said, smiling. She handed me my quiver (awkwardly reaching for her left hip with her right hand, her left still being injured), and I pulled one out, and I saw that the tip was coated in silver, and that it seemed to be filed to a razor point.

"And these," she said, pulling out three silver ball bearings.

I picked them up, two in my left hand, one in my right. I tossed one once, experimentally, and nodded. The weight was good. The arrows, too, did not seem to be weighted down in the slightest by the silver's weight. It was so perfect, in fact, that I started to become suspicious.

"Are you sure this is real silver?" I asked dubiously.

"Yes," Ben and Stan replied simultaneously.

"Why?" Ben asked.

"It doesn't seem to be weighing down the tips of my arrows at all, and these shots of pure silver should be much heavier. Shouldn't they?"

Ben walked over and plucked one up from my hand, and weighted it carefully in his hand. "It does seem like it should be heavier," he said. "Just be glad it's not, I guess." Maybe it was the turtle, or maybe it was some other force. Ben didn't seem to mind much that this had probably just broken several laws of physics.

Nothing much happened for the rest of the day. We played games, card games, bored games, and even some children's games, like hide-and-go-seek. It was slightly embarrassing at first, but since they seemed so comfortable doing it, I soon forgot about dignity and just had fun. Today would be one of the last days of pure enjoyment that we would be allowed to have, because Its shadow was in the distance; closing in. And tomorrow, we would do battle with It, all of us trooping outside, I in the lead with my arrows and the slingshot.

But for now, we ran and played. We had fun. And at eleven o'clock that night, we all were tired, and we all went to bed at the same time.


	17. part two, chapter four

CHAPTER FOUR

I awoke to the smell of cooking pancakes.

It was a pleasant change compared to waking up at early hours or to yelling and screaming. I sat up, and I saw that I was the last one to wake up. I simply lay back and closed my eyes. Today we would do battle, and maybe today would be the last day that I would be able to walk in the kitchen and see the Losers, all together. Maybe today was my last day alive, and maybe, even now, my last hours were slowly drifting away.

But that wasn't right, was it? They weren't drifting away; they were floating away. This unpleasant thought jolted me from whatever thoughts I had had about falling back asleep. I stood up and walked into the kitchen.

And there they were, the self-proclaimed Losers, sitting around the kitchen table, all laughing together. Beverly had a box of pancake mix out, and was flipping one of the pancakes while laughing at something Richie had just said. They were all laughing. The lighting was just right, and they looked like a picture. Everything just seemed to be too perfect, as though true beauty did not exist outside of the virtual world. But here they were.

"Hey Sara, come here and help us settle something, will yah?" Richie asked me. I smiled, and walked into the kitchen, walking strait into the photograph that I had admired from a distance. How often I had wished that I could do just that! And to have it finally happen!

So I had gone in, and we had talked, and we had laughed, and we had had a good time. We had enjoyed our few hours together for a long time. However, a time came when we simply could not stall any longer. Our chatter tapered off, and the mood slowly changed from cheery to a grim focus. One by one, we pushed our breakfasts aside. At this point, it must have been nearly noon.

A line surfaced my thoughts then: 'Eat, drink, and be merry, for tomorrow you may die.' But we did not have tomorrow, because we were going to battle, and we were going now.

"C-come on," Bill said, standing up. "We n-n-need to go."


	18. part two, chapter five

CHAPTER FIVE

We all stood, one by one, turned, and walked to the door. I grabbed my quiver, attached it to my belt, and strung my bow. I put the slingshot in one of my back pockets, and the ball bearings in the other. I strung an arrow onto the bow, and aimed it, not yet drawn back, at the closed door.

"Open it," I said to Stan, who was nearest to the door. He took a step forwards and placed a hand on the doorknob. Bill stood on my right, and Eddie was holding his arm in a death grip, probably giving Bill more bruises, as he had to both of us the night previous. Richie stood somewhere behind me. Mike stood on the other side of the doorway, standing behind the arc where it swung in. Ben stood on my left, next to Beverly, who looked dreamy and far away, transferring energy to me. My aim suddenly seemed off, or, more likely, maybe it already was, and I just hadn't noticed it. I corrected it.

Stan looked up to me once for confirmation. I nodded, and he swung the door open.

In It came, Its form some large animal with huge teeth and claws.

My first shot missed.

I think that if my first shot had gone true, then none of the following events would have happened. It would have made things a damn lot simpler if I had just taken one extra second to collect myself, because then, everything would have turned out differently. As it was, however, I had missed.

I drew out another arrow and strung it in a heartbeat, but somehow, It was even faster. It went to Beverly first, Its claws snapping, reaching. My second shot was true. I certain coldness fell over me then, a certain indifference that made it possible to relax, to let my mind free, to let my hands and my arms and my fingers shoot.

Even so, my 'hit' was more of a graze. Although it left a long scar of what looked like molten silver on It, It seemed to be fine. It turned and left Beverly, but It went to Bill instead of leaving. He only got a chance to take a step back before It was on him. It did not kill him, but pulled him in, placed him between Itself and me.

I stopped for a moment, one crucial moment, to wonder how It had thought to do that. It had never done anything like this before; had never thought beyond to scare and feed and maybe even kill.

Eddie, maybe not conquering his fear, but only acting in the spur of the moment, ran right up to It and began pounding his fists on Its side. He grabbed for Bill, and Bill grabbed right back, but their hands never linked.

"Back off, Eddie," I said. Despite my turmoil of emotions, my voice sounded cold and calm and calculating, none of which I felt anymore, except for at the most primal levels.

I drew back again, but did not shoot. It was considerably larger then Bill, but he was flailing his arms and shouting, and even if I only missed by a little, it could be fatal to him. So I held off in shooting at It while a war waged inside me:

'Just draw back and hit It. Ignore Bill.'

'If I hit him then I'll never be able to face myself again.'

'You won't miss.'

'What if I do?'

'You wont!'

"I won't!" I shouted, drew back, and shot. My aim was true, and by all means, It should have been dead right there. But It, suddenly, was gone in a whiff of smoke, and It had taken Bill with It. The arrow shot through and hit the back wall.

"No!" Eddie shouted, running forward to where It had been.

Eddie dropped to his knees right where it had stood, lowered his hands to the floor, and broke down sobbing, shouting as he did.

"No! Bill! No!"

The others ran forwards grouping around Eddie, comforting him, taking comfort for themselves. In an instant, our fearless leader had been snatched away. And he was helpless in Its clutches.

I walked to the other side of the room to retrieve the arrow. It had blood coating the silver tip, so it must have only just grazed the surface of Its skin before It disappeared.

I backtracked then, joining the group.

"I'm sorry," I said once, quietly. I did not bother to tell them how close I had come to saving Bill, only to have it slip out of my fingers.

"It's not your fault," Ben said.

Richie seemed about to say something, but closed his mouth. He opened it again, and this time, words came out.

"We need to go in and get him," he said, his voices and his jokes laid aside.

"Yes," Eddie said strongly. "All of us, we…" he was trembling, and his voice was curtly cut off by his own sobs.

The others were slowly nodding, all but Stan. Stan, who usually looked so dreamy and distant, now only looked thoughtful and down-to-earth. I, for a brief moment, saw who he was as a younger child, why he was so valuable to the Losers.

"I don't know how to say this," he said sadly, "But maybe we shouldn't risk the trip."

"What do you mean by that?" Beverly asked furiously.

"I think he's dead by now."

"He's not dead!"

"You can't know that."

I was listening to them, believing in Beverly, knowing deep down that Stan was probably right. But suddenly, their argument seemed unimportant and distant, and I felt weak and dizzy. Just as suddenly, my vision was cut off, and I grayed out.

My eyesight wasn't cut off, though, not really. It was more like being in the dark. I asked something out loud then, but I was dazed and confused, and I don't remember what I said, and I couldn't hear it, anyways.

And without warning, something pierced my chest, driving deep, stopping right above my heart. I looked down, unable to see anything, only vaguely feeling the sharp pain and the blood trickling down my side. But someone close was screaming, loudly and clearly, right in my head, it seemed. That was when I realized that I wasn't really in the dark, that I wasn't me. I was someone else now; someone like…

"Bill?" I asked out loud, and this time, I heard myself far away, distant and echoed.

Most of my consciousness switched from wherever I had been to my body, as suddenly as I had always when I was startled out of sleep.

"Are you okay?" Someone asked, one of the Losers. I glanced up, saw Stan and Mike doubled over, too, clutching where Bill had been stabbed on their own chests. They could somehow collect themselves enough to explain to the others what had happened, but I was struggling to keep myself conscious. My mind could focus on where it was, here and now, but a part of it was lent out to wherever it was that Bill was.

It was agonizing, being torn in two like that.

"We need to get him," Eddie said. His words stuck in my mind like a fishhook, anchoring me to reality. And suddenly, I was in one place again, leaving the remnants of my vision behind. "He would do the same for us. For any of us." His voice was mostly overlayered with fear, but beneath that, there was strength, drawn from friendship.

Mike and Stan had stood up by then, but there was a throbbing pulse where I had been stabbed, preventing me from straightening up without sending spears of pain through my chest.

"We need to go now, then," Ben said resolutely. He picked up my bow, which I had dropped (I had hardly managed to keep my footing, let alone hold on to anything) and handed to me. I took it gratefully, and slowly stood up, wincing at the pain, which was now fading. The others had formed a loose circle, one with one missing spot. I walked forwards to join it, to fill the circle.

"Now," Beverly said. "Now, before we loose our nerve. Let's go."


	19. part two, chapter six

CHAPTER SIX

I walked out first, taking a lead I would not have taken had Bill been present, regardless of whether I was shooting or not. Eddie followed closely behind, his face showing clearly his inner turmoil; a mixture of bravery and fear. Richie ran up to my other side, and in an attempt to bring our moods up, he began again on one of his voices.

"So where're we off tew gov'ner?" he said enthusiastically, desperately attempting to clear out the gloomy cloud that hung over us.

"Beep-beep, Richie," Ben said quietly. But he was just going through the motions, talking in a dull monotone. We were all depressed, maybe more so then if it had been any other one of us. But it had been Bill, and with him gone, I was somehow elected leader. Although no one had mentioned it, it was obvious. It was just something in the air. I, however, was not a leader. I could play the role if they wished, but how long their delusions would last, I could not tell. I had only attained leadership status in their minds because of the simple fact that I could shoot. If Beverly had been able, then it would be her where I was now.

So I continued walking, now with a new confidence in my stride. We walked down the path between the Standpipe and the house, the same way that we had come down several nights previous. We slid down the hill into the Barrens, and walked right past their clubhouse. We stopped briefly to glance inside. The smoke-smell had faded, but had not left entirely. Everything was intact, looking ready for use. This was fortunate: it would be needed, and soon.

As we were walking, I kept on wondering what it would be like, this face off, and if any of us would die. As we walked into the Barrens, I was lost in my thoughts, which was a dangerous place to be when you may be taken or killed at any time. I was startled out of my revere by screaming: Beverly's scream.

At first I heard a scream of terror, but that was only because I could not think of any other reason for her to be screaming. Yes, for just a moment, it had sounded fearful, as though she were in pain. But when I whipped my head around to see what was going on, I saw that it was not a scream of fear, but a shriek surprise, and underlying joy. I followed her gaze, and saw Bill Denbrough, standing in a daze, leaning heavily against a tree, as a drunk might. For some reason, one that we would not understand until later, It had not kept Bill or driven him mad or killed him.

"Hey," he said weakly, and then collapsed.

"Bill!" Mike shouted. He and Ben ran forwards to catch Bill as he fell forwards.

I glanced around, suddenly sure that It was watching us. I quickly threaded an arrow and leveled it to shooting level. I did not yet draw back, but I was ready to draw it back and shoot at the first thing that looked suspicious that moved.

This suspicion was crazy. I was certain that It was watching us, but for some reason, It did not attack. All the others had gathered around Bill, but I hung back, trying to look everywhere at once, trying to find where It was. Everything looked normal, but some deep gut instinct told me that something was off. My gaze focused on Bill, and I considered briefly if it wasn't Bill at all, but just one of the two remaining, masquerading as him.

But even as I thought it, I realized that this simply was not true. Again, had it been anyone else…but this was Bill, and no one else. There was no mistaking him for someone else or something else for him, for he was our leader. We would know.

"Let's get him back to the clubhouse," Ben said. "I think that's the safest out of all the Safe Spots."

"Not to mention the closest," said Stan, practical Stan.

Richie scooped Bill up in his arms, and began walking back to the clubhouse. The others followed, and I trailed along behind them, still keeping an eye out for anything, anything that looked even slightly out of the ordinary. But there was nothing, the long walk back; there was nothing, besides my paranoia, that was even slightly unusual.

When we got there, we all piled in, and Richie lay Bill gently on the floor. That was when it clicked, what had probably been bothering me this whole time.

I walked to his body and placed my hand on his chest, right above his heart. Where there should have only been skin, there was a hard, metallic lump.

"Sara, what are you…" began Eddie, but he trailed off as I lifted Bill's shirt. There was a small, round piece of metal stuck to his chest. There was a light on it, and it was slowly blinking on and off. It did not look like scrap metal, but a finely crafted piece of equipment, about 3 inches in diameter. There was no visible means of it holding, but I suspected, mostly because of the vision I had, that on the other side, there was a long spike, one now imbedded deep within Bill.

"That's it," I said to Mike and Stan. "That's what we felt. God knows how deep it's stuck in there."

"We need to get it out," Ben spoke up.

"Aren't you supposed to leave those sort of things in?" Richie asked nervously.

"I don't think we should leave anything that It stuck into his chest in there," Beverly said.

Ben slipped Bill's shirt over his head and took it off. He then reached forwards, slowly, first caressing the smooth metal surface, finding a grip. The light began to blink faster. Ben yanked up with a sharp upward motion. The metal pulled up Bill's skin, and when Ben let go, it retracted, and then started making a beeping sound, like that of a soft alarm on an alarm clock or a wristwatch's beep.

"Wha…" was all that Bill, who had just woken, managed to get out before the beeping stopped. Suddenly, an electric sound filled the air, and Bill's body was convulsing as though it were attached to a livewire. There was yelling and screaming, not from Bill, but from us. The electricity stopped a few seconds after it had started, and Bill lay on his back, his chest heaving with each breath, now groaning softly.

"Don't mess with that anymore," Eddie said, his voice soft and pleading.

"Bill, are you okay?" Beverly asked.

Bill slowly sat up, and gazed at all of us. "W-why did you d-d-do th-that?" he asked, the hurt and confusion apparent, written on his face, sounding in his voice. "H-How did you d-do that?"

"It wasn't us," Mike said slowly. "It did this to you."

"What…what did It do to you?" Eddie asked. He sounded as though he were worried that It had done the same to Bill as It had done to him.

"N-nothing," he said. "Nothing a-at all." He lay back, and we all glanced at each other nervously, wondering if he were asleep, or if he were done talking or what. But he continued, laying down, his eyes closed:

"It t-talked. Th-that's all. It t-told me about Itself. And a-about the f-f-future." As he said this, he glanced up and looked straight at Stan, accusingly. Stan, who had been gazing intently at him, like the rest of us, dropped his gaze, settled it on his shoes. The rest of us exchanged glances. No one seemed about to say anything, to contradict Bill, but I understood that it needed to be done. So I stepped forward.

"Bill," I said, "It tied you up, left you in the dark, and stabbed you. What do you mean It didn't do anything to you? Why…" I took a deep breath. "Why are you lying to us?" There, I had come out and said it. I had openly called Big Bill a liar.

"W-what are you t-t-talking about?" he said to me, sounding more angry then confused.

"We were there, Bill, me and Stan and Mike; everyone who I've hypnotized so far. Where do you think that thing in your chest came from?" I asked, trying to remain calm, trying to make him see reason.

"Wuh-what thing?" he asked, his anger gone as quickly as it had raged. He was honestly perplexed.

How could he have forgotten being stabbed? Or could he not see it? Jumbled thoughts whirled around in my mind.

"Look down," Richie said. "'Tis on yur chest, and it wont come off."

Bill looked up once, dubiously, at Richie, and then looked down at his chest. When he looked up again, I expected recognition or horror. But what I saw was more confusion.

"Wuh-what are you t-t-trying to pull?" he asked. He sounded as though he were trying to be angry, but was really just scared.

"You can't see it?" Ben asked doubtfully.

"I g-g-guess not," he said quietly, as though admitting defeat.

Beverly took his hand and guided it to the round metal. When she rested his hand on it, the light began blinking faster. She quickly took his hand off of it, and its pace resumed to normal.

"Could you feel that?" she asked.

"F-felt someth-thing," he admitted. "B-but where'd it c-c-come from?"

"It put that thing on you," Richie said.

"N-no," he said. "All It d-did was talk."

"And you believed It?"

"It's n-not the same one," he said. His tone of voice was that of one stating a fact that could well change everything…not as one who is taking information from an extremely unreliable resource. "N-n-none of them a-are."

"What are you talking about?" Stan asked.

"It t-t-t-t…" he stopped talking, looked helplessly at us.

"Bill?" I asked.

"It t-t-told me th-th-th-th…" spittle flew from his contorting lips. His stutter seemed to leap forwards, to block out what he was trying to say. He gestured to the paper that they had piled in one corner of the clubhouse. Ben walked over and grabbed a sheet, along with a pencil, and handed them to Bill. Bill started to write something, but his arm suddenly twitched violently, and the paper ripped right down the middle, and the pencil lead snapped.

"It's not going to let him talk to us," Stan said, dully realizing the truth.

Bill shook his head in disagreement.

"Yes, It is doing this," I said quietly. "I don't know what It did to you, what It really did to you, but I guess I know the best way to find out. I'm going to go into your mind and find out. Is that okay?"

If I did not have his agreement, then I would be stuck outside. I could not force my way into anyone's mind. I was literally incapable of doing that. However, he only thought for a moment before nodding. So, while the others watched, I sat next to him, leaned in, and prepared for the plunge.

But just as I was in, a horrible cloud filled everything. The cloud was Pennywise. It was blocking everything. If I stumbled around further, then I would get lost, and It would kill me. As soon as this thought occurred to me, It suddenly saw me. I felt it attacking me, painfully forcing me back, and then I was back in my own mind. I tipped backwards in my physical body, but Beverly and Mike caught me. And for a moment, while I was still looking into Bill's eyes, I saw It looking right out through them, right into my soul. But then I blinked, and there was Bill, and only Bill. Wherever It was taking refuge in his mind, It was gone now, back to where it had been lurking before.

"S-S-Sara?" he asked. "W-w-wuh-w…" he quit trying to talk then.

"It's in there," I said to him, feeling the others eyes on me. "It's in your mind. It was blocking me out."

"Can you get it out?" Eddie asked quietly, trembling with fear. He took a gulp from his aspirator.

"No," I said. "Not alone. It's too strong."

"I think you're wrong," Bill said, without a trace of stutter. "It let me go."

"You're not stuttering," Richie said, surprised.

"That's not Bill," Beverly said quietly.

"What are you talking about?" Bill asked. "Of course it's me."

"Bill?" Mike asked dubiously. "What's going on?"

"It's him," I said slowly, "but he's only saying what It allows him to. It fucked him up pretty badly, and It wont let him tell us exactly what happened. But when Bill wants to say something that he's been convinced is true that works in Its favor, then It's going to let him."

"So It, in a way, is the one speaking," Mike said softly. As he said this, I watched Bill's eyes, and they sort of clicked. As though something just fell into place, and in that instant, he understood. He knew that he, free of bounds and chains, was being held captive. His anger and denial fell away, and left only a dull horror.

"How do we get it out?" Ben said.

"I th-th-th-th…" Bill tried, spittle flying off his lips, before giving up. Instead, he pointed to my bow.

Eddie's eyes grew wide. "There's no way to shot It without shooting you, too, Bill," he said.

Bill shook his head, looking like he was trying very hard not to get angry. He held up two fingers, made eye contact with each of us, and nodded. He put one down, showed his index finger, and pointed to his head.

"One in your head?" Richie guessed. Bill looked at him and nodded. He held up his index finger again, then gestured, in a general sweeping motion, to the door; to outside.

"And the other's out there," Richie continued. Bill frowned and shook his head.

"Are you talking about the same one?" Ben guessed. Bill looked at him and nodded.

"So if we kill It in Its physical form…" I began.

"Then It's out of Bill's head!" Beverly finished.

"You sure about that, Big Bill?" Eddie asked quietly. I could tell by the look Bill had in his eyes that there was much more to it then that, that if he could have, then he would've made a speech about it. But since he was, in a way, mute, more so then usual. All he could do was nod. So he did so, assuring enough to quench any fears that they all may have had.

"We need to get that thing it put in you out, first," Stan said. "For all we know, it's watching us right now."

We all turned our gazes towards Bill. The light on the metal blinked again, reminding us that it was something futuristic. For all we knew, it was a camera.

"Do you have any good ideas on how to do that?" Beverly asked, almost mockingly, but only out of habit. She wanted hope, and she wanted for him to have an idea.

"Get some pliers and yank that fucker out before it goes off," Stan said. "And get some rubber gloves and a circle of rubber underneath it so that it doesn't electrocute anyone."

"I think if we're going to get it out," I said, "then we need to do it as soon as possible. Otherwise, everything kinda…sets…around it."

Bill looked scared at the thought of ripping something from his chest, but he swallowed it all down, and then only let the bravery show on his face. He nodded in agreement.

"You don't happen to have pliers down here, do you?" I asked.

"Maybe," Mike said. "A lot of stuff has accumulated in here over the years."

So we searched for a while, for maybe an hour. Mike was correct; a lot of things were there to be sifted through, a surprising amount, considering just how small the clubhouse was. But in the end, there was nothing that was pliers or could work as one that turned up.

"Then I guess I send someone up," I said.

"It's dark out, though," Bill said. The fact that he could talk only decided that we needed to get this done quickly.

"I know where there's some nearby," Ben said.

So Ben knew where there was a nice set of pliers, so I sent Ben up to get that, some rubber gloves, and scissors.

His mind, I realized as I explored it, was smooth and calculating, and his faith was not punched through by his rationality, as it had been with Stan. Everything about it was slow and cautious.

"Do we need to be worried about It coming in?" Beverly had asked before he had left.

"I don't think so," I said. "This is the safest place, right?" So Ben had gone out, and walked away down the streets of Derry under the full moon. There had been no sign that It was out there.


	20. part two, chapter seven

CHAPTER SEVEN

While we waited for him to come back, we talked. Well, mostly Richie talked, and we interjected every once in a while.

"Now if we could only find a way to get him to shut up whenever we wanted!" Richie said, gesturing towards Bill.

"Now if we could only find a way to get you to shut up whenever we wanted," Eddie coolly returned. Bill smiled at that, as though he had accepted that It was in his mind, or, more likely, pushed the knowledge aside.

"We need to get 'cha fixed up," Richie said to Bill. "You're terrible at charades."

So Richie had performed for us in his many Voices, all of us throwing out an occasional "beep-beep Richie," or some other comment. All of us but Bill, but he joined in our talk with his eyes.

After about twenty minutes, or maybe thirty, Ben returned with, not only pliers, but an entire tool kit. When he was down, I pulled him up out of his trance.

"That was strange," he said, massaging his head.

"You okay?" I asked him.

"Kinda a headache," he said. Behind him, Bill nodded quietly, in recognition.

"It does that if you're in too long," I said apologetically.

"Let's get started," Stan spoke up, eager to start. I first thought that he was nervous about this, and just wanted to get it over with as quickly as possible. But then I hit on something that I believed was a bit closer to the truth: he wanted to focus on this instead of everything else. Because once we started this near-surgical procedure, everything else, this entire situation, would become less important. And removing a spike was something normal, something that Stan could grasp. He was a very realistic person, and fall this about hypnosis and demonic beings had him totally unnerved. But surgery was real, something he had probably read about, something he understood.

"Yes," I said quietly. "Let's."

"This isn't a good idea," Bill said, again, without a stutter. So this was something that It wanted for us to hear. "It's going to shock me if you do." The light was blinking faster, as it had when it had shocked him the first time.

"How do you know that, Bill?" Beverly asked.

"I j-j-j-j…" he shrugged his shoulders and gave the 'I just do' look.

"Is it talking to you now?" I asked him. He nodded, and then looked away.

I picked up the gloves, and cut off the end, leaving just enough room for a hand to fit in. With the remaining strip, I started to cut out a circle, one that would just fit over the metal. But as I started cutting, the metal began beeping. I quickly threw down the gloves, and it stopped.

"Guess It don't like that," Richie said.

"It's not going to let us do this, is It?" I asked. Bill shook his head quietly.

"Alright," I said. "We'll deal with It another way." But I stood up with my back to Bill, facing the others, and mouthed the words: 'When he goes to sleep.' The others nodded, barely moving their heads, only enough to show that they had understood. When I turned around, Bill was not looking up, not giving me the curious glance that I had expected. I felt suddenly mutinous, felt like I was being dishonorable.

It's not Bill, I reminded myself. Still, though, the feeling lingered.

"Well then, what do we do now?" Eddie asked. He still looked as though he was afraid to go out and face It again, but his eyes slid over to Bill as he spoke. "We wait? Or do we go? We need to do something."

Bill stood up and pointed to the door.

"You say we go?" Richie translated. Bill nodded.

"Do you know where It is?" I asked Bill. He bit his lower lip, but nodded.

"Are you sure?"

"M-m-m-"

"Mostly sure?"

He nodded. He then walked across the clubhouse and picked up the slingshot. He looked up to me, asking permission.

"You wanna shoot, Big Bill?" I asked. He nodded.

"Are you sure that's such a good idea?" Ben asked quietly.

Bill looked at Ben and showed a puzzled expression.

"Well, It's already clouded your judgment," Ben said, even quieter, shrinking under Bill's shocked gaze.

"I think that's over," Eddie said. But he sounded more hopeful then sure.

"We don't know what It can do with you, Bill," Mike said.

Bill glared furiously at each of us, but then quit, and his face fell. He nodded resignedly.

"Maybe someone else should have the slingshot," I said. "I don't think I'm going to use it."

"Richie should," Beverly said. "He shot best out of all of us, except for you."

So Bill handed the slingshot over to Richie, and I handed him the three silver shots I had. Richie looked about to say something witty, but I silenced him with a glare. So he put the shots in his pocket, picked up the unloaded slingshot, and took a few practice shots.

"Okay," I said, again, stepping up as a leader, only because Bill couldn't. "Bill, you lead the way. Richie will go with you at the front, with the slingshots."

'Keep an eye on him,' I mouthed to Richie.

'Okay,' he mouthed back, and nodded.

"I'll cover the back," I continued, "And, um, Beverly will walk with me, so she can shoot in case I can't." I had considered positioning Stan to walk with me, but reconsidered when I figured that he might break down, under pressure or under simple disbelief.

"And everyone else between us," I finished. Everyone nodded quietly, in agreement. My gaze lingered over Richie, and I compared him to what the others had told me of him before. He was quiet now, and agreeable. A deep anger was boiling within me. It had done this to us. Richie was once full of life, but that had been crushed. And what about the others? Bill was once a leader, and now he was mute, and unable to communicate except for in charades. Eddie was now more terrified then he had ever been, and Stan was always drawn within himself. And what was the cause?

Before, I had just been going along with the rest of them. If I had been dropped into this world alone, then I would have never dreamed of taking It on, any of them. Before, I was just going with the flow. But now, even if I had been alone, I would have gone after It. I wanted It dead now, more then ever.

"Let's go," Richie said. He slid one of the silver ball bearings into the cup, and leveled it at the door. I strung an arrow, and leveled it, also, at the door. Neither of us drew, but we sure as hell were ready to.

Bill pulled his shirt back on as Ben cautiously stepped forwards, swung the door open, and took a few quick steps back. But nothing was outside, so Bill climbed out, followed closely by Richie. The others climbed out, and I attached my quiver, strung my bow, and followed.

Bill backtracked to where we had found him, and then passed it, and followed a path that looked beaten to just slightly more then an animal path. Bushes covered the sides, and tree limbs were constantly being snapped back. It was difficult to walk more then single file, but I felt it necessary to walk right next to Beverly. It would have been altogether all to easy for It to pick us off, one by one, starting from the back.

We walked for about a half-hour, and just when I was about to ask Bill if he knew where he was going, he stopped at the canal.

"Is this where It took you, Bill?" Beverly asked. Bill shook his head.

"This is where It let you go, isn't it?" Stan asked. Bill nodded.

"But where'd It have you before?" Mike asked. Bill shrugged with a sad smile on his face, then turned to Eddie, as though expecting an answer from him.

"I don't know where…" Eddie began, trailed off. "Upstream," he said.

I considered asking him how he knew, but the others seemed to place their complete faith in him, because they didn't stop to think twice before starting off upstream. The sun, which had started setting, reflected in blinding sparkles off of the water.

"Okay," I muttered to myself. "He just knows."

"What was that?" Beverly asked.

We started walking as we talked.

"What if he's wrong?" I asked her. "What if he's just guessing?"

"He's not wrong," she said. "He led us through the sewer system in the dark while we were being chased. I trust him to make a simple right-or-left decision now."

"So…what? He can just turn this on and off?"

"As long as he's not too shaken, he should be fine." A slow blush had risen on her cheeks. "And if he is, well, we just try something else." I toyed briefly with the thought of asking her exactly why the thought of taking precautionary measures made her embarrassed, but decided against it.

"But he is shaken," I said. "He's always shaken now."

She didn't answer that for about a minute, but simply walked in silence.

"Does it matter?" she asked me. "Pretty much everywhere is Its domain right now. Even if we don't end up where It lives, even if we don't find It, then Its going to find us."

Her words were proven true when; just a few minutes after she had spoken them, It came.

It didn't bother with Its usual loud banter and stupid jokes and futile offers. It just made a quick appearance on top of the hill we were about to climb. It was in Its clown form, but I could not stand to look at Its face, which was a mass of boils and swollen skin-bubbles. I looked down at Its silver-blue suit instead, and I aimed and shot before It could speak. But my aim was off, because I shot right-handed before I could think about it. The arrow missed by less then a foot, but it was enough.

Richie leveled his slingshot and drew back. But Bill, who was swaying on his feet, looking about ready to fall, slowly raised his hand and placed it in the fork. Richie let it slacken, then, surprised, turned to look at him. Bill slowly walked forwards towards It, and as he turned around, I saw that the light that had been blinking was now just on, the light showing clearly through his shirt. It was not off and blinking on every ten seconds or so, it just stayed on, bright red.

He walked as though in a trance, and I wondered if he were trying to do something heroic. But what happened next was something none of us expected: he turned his back to Pennywise and faced us. It did not kill him, or take him, but used his protection.

"Pull him down," I whispered quickly to Beverly. "Pull Bill down, and I'll shoot It."

She looked dazed, but nodded, and we both ran forwards at the same time. Beverly grabbed Bill around the waist and pulled him off to the side, but Bill turned and grabbed my bow before he was pulled down. As he fell, it came out of my hands.

"Richie!" I shouted. "Shoot It!"

But Richie could not shoot It, I realized as I turned to see where It was. It was gone.

I blinked once, and then disregarded it. I turned instead to see just how Bill was doing. The light beneath his shirt had gone out, and he seemed less in a trance. He lay on the ground (Bev had stood up), still staring ahead, but his gaze was not so blank.

"Bill?" Stan asked cautiously.

Bill looked up from the ground, and then sat up.

"Wuh-what happened?" he asked.

"You can talk," I said, surprised.

"It had you," Ben said. "I think It might still. But It can't control you as much after It takes you over like that. It takes too much power."

"L-L-Like what?" Bill asked.

"We don't know how much time we have left," Ben said quickly, animatedly. "Tell us what happened while you still can. We'll tell you when you can't."

"Alright," Bill said, hesitantly, but agreeing. "Wh-When It t-t-took me, It talked. It t-told me that It w-was different. A d-d-different one. W-We've already won. We've already k-k-killed It, wh-when we're o-older. Th-th-this wuh-one is It's b-babies. Th-Th-The th-three left for th-their home, b-b-b-b-b…" he stopped, scrunched up his face, concentrated, relaxed, and continued.

"But th-they w-w-went s-so fast that they b-b-broke the t-time barrier."

"You're saying they went to their home planet and came back so fast that they broke the time-space continuum?" Ben asked. Bill nodded, then continued.

"Th-these three a-a-are Its remaining k-k-kids."

"That all It talked about?" Beverly asked.

"N-n-no," he replied. "It also t-t-t-t…" he again stopped and concentrated. But when he started talking again, nothing came out but more stutters.

"I think you're out of time," I said to him.

He nodded, not angry now, just acceptingly. He twirled his hand and arranged his face in an "and you?" expression.

"Alright," I said. "How much do you remember?" He stared at me blankly, and I realized how stupid it was to ask a question that was not answered by yes or no.

"Do you remember leaving the clubhouse?" I asked him. He nodded.

"Do you remember turning right at the canal?" I asked. He thought for a minute, then gave me a small half-smile while shrugging his shoulders.

"You sort of do?" Richie guessed. Bill nodded.

We explained to him what had happened as we trudged back to the clubhouse. I was doing most of the talking, but the others interjected every once in a while to add something or revise a thought. It seemed that each of us had a slightly different view on what had happened, but that, in my experience, was normal.

"I'm sorry, Bill," I said quietly, "but you can't be trusted anymore. Not until that one is dead."

"Or if we can get that thing off of you," Mike added, looking at Bill's chest. "I think that that's the only way that It is controlling him." As he said this, we walked into the clearing where the clubhouse was. It was almost dark by now. We climbed down into the clubhouse.

"Yes," I said. "The light was on the whole time that It was in control, wasn't it?"

Bill just looked down at the floor, discouraged. The "group-meeting time" feel of our conversation fell off. Richie sat next to Bill and comforted him, or maybe just talked. Richie would probably have been just fine talking to someone who couldn't answer back. He just wanted an audience. He seemed to me the type that could happily ramble on and on to a brick wall. Eddie and Stan sat back and stared ahead vacantly. Ben and Beverly and Mike talked. This was the time that we all would have packed and gone home, had that been an option. And me, living many years in the future and across the continent from Derry, would have probably gone over to Bev's house to sleep, or maybe just stayed here at the clubhouse for the night. As I thought, I fell asleep. It was only about 4:00, but the day had been long, and all the fear and running and general movement drained me.

"You were more right then you know," a voice said, and that voice dragged my down from the half-sleep that I had been floating in down into the murky depths of sleep.

"It still has almost complete control," the same voice continued. I then recognized it as Bill's. I looked around, and saw that I was, again, out of body, floating in the macroverse.

"What do you mean?" I asked him. It was then that I, again, started to consider if this were a dream or something more. But I pushed that aside for now. Best to play as if this were real, and I worry about if it were or not later. But if I played as though it was real, and it weren't, there would be no skin off my back. But if I played like this was a fake, but it was real, then that may have serious repercussions.

"It's controlling my voice, as you know, and I'm constantly trying to keep it at bay. But It wouldn't let me say that, even when It was near-powerless. I…I don't know how much longer I can keep It off. You need to get that thing off as soon as you wake up."

"We were going to as soon as you fell asleep," I said to him.

"No. As soon as you wake up. Do you really think It's going to let me sleep, when the seven of you are a threat to Its only spy-camera?"

"It's going to shock you again," I said quietly. "I don't want to hurt you."

"It hurts more if you don't get it off."

"Hold up," I said, realizing something. "If you're not asleep, then how are you here?"

"I think Its taken over right now. I had to leave. I'm still nailed back to my body. I can get back whenever I want to now."

"What if It resists?" I said, returning back to our previous topic. "What if It wont let us get anywhere near you?"

"Knock me out," he said quietly. "Tie me down. Then do it. I think that that's the way you're going to have to do it. I'm giving It control just by being here."

"I don't want to do that," I said quietly.

"You have to," he said, with such strength that I had enough courage to look up, to let my eyes meet his eyes.

That was when I was torn from the macroverse into the real world. One minute I had just looked into Bill's clear blue eyes, and then I was in a near-dream state for just a second before I sat up quickly as I woke up.

I looked up to Bill then, and he looked to me, and our eyes met, and for just a second, it was Bill that I was looking at, and I knew that it had not been a dream. But then his eyes clouded over, and it was no longer Bill Denbrough I was looking at.

Beside me, Mike, who had also been sleeping, woke with the same start I had. I turned and looked at him, and as our eyes met, I knew that he had been dreaming of Bill, too, receiving instructions.

'We need to free him,' a thought came. I cannot tell exactly where it came from. Maybe it was my own; maybe it was Mike's. Maybe it came from somewhere else. But truth rang from it.

'You need to knock him out,' I thought, and prayed that Mike had heard it. I then walked to Bill, pretending to be fooled by Its disguise.

"Hey," I said quietly, sitting down next to Bill. Eddie and Ben were sleeping, also, so we were all quiet. "You okay?"

It nodded, pretending to be Bill. It arranged Bill's face to look sad, with an underlying anger. Its attempt was good, but I saw the sheen of murder in Its eyes. I sat with my side to the wall, facing Bill. I heard Mike come up from behind me and slip something heavy and blunt and smooth into my hands. Something with corners.

"If you weren't inside of my friend, then I would kill you now," I said. I saw the surprise in Its eyes before I swung the radio to my left and slammed it into the side of Bill's head.

"Sara!" Beverly shouted in shocked horror.

"As it is, you are going to die anyways," I said, ignoring the other's protests, ignoring Mike's explanations to them. All I was focused on was It. It let go, and I saw Bill in his own eyes briefly.

"I'm sorry Bill," I said.

"Ih-it's ok-kay," he said quietly as the light left his eyes. He fell back then, landing on Richie, who caught his arms. And then there was only that damn clown looking out, gazing at me. I felt like whacking Bill again, just to get rid of It, to cleanse Bill out, in a way. However, the others looked ready to kill me for attacking their leader, in spite of Mike's hurried speech.

"Why the hell did you do that?" Richie demanded angrily to me, looking about ready to murder me.

"He told me to," I said distractedly. "Don't worry about me. We need to get that thing out while we can."

"He told us both," Mike added. "We both dreamed about him. It was the same dream, he told us to."

"You're trying to tell me you just knocked Bill out because of a dream?" Stan demanded angrily to me. "And you think that's okay?" he said; now rounding on Mike.

Something keeping all the fear and anger away inside me snapped. "It was real!" I shouted angrily. "I don't know what the hell you're thinking, but we don't live in the same world as you did before! All this logic and reasoning of your just has to stop! Learn to fucking deal with the problems at hand! Bill told me to, so I did, dammit!"

Stan rounded on me furiously and seemed about ready to yell back, but Mike put his hand on his shoulder and said something, so quiet it sounded like gibberish to me, but Stan turned to look at him, nodded, and looked down, now placid.

"Let's stop wasting time," I said. "We need to get that thing out of him before It can do any more damage."

"We…we should probably tie him down," Ben said. "In case he wakes up."

I mentally cursed myself for forgetting to tie him down anyways. Bill had specifically told me to tie him down, and if Ben hadn't voiced that passing thought, then something really bad could have happened.

"Yes," I said to him. "You do that. And…count on him waking up. Tie them tight." I took a deep breath and hoped that we could finish this right now. This leadership thing was just not something I was good at.

Beverly took Bill's shirt off, looked once at the spike, then at Bill's face. Her face showed many emotions, sadness prominent among them. Ben walked up behind her, put one hand on her shoulder, and quietly reassured her. Beverly hugged him, crying, and Ben looked shocked, and then pleased, and then comforting, as he hugged her back.

I pulled out the strip that I had cut off from the glove earlier, and cut out a circle. I measured out about three inches, and cut out that much in the center.

The light on the spike had begun to blink faster, and then it began to beep. I quickly fitted the rubber circle I had cut out under the top, just as it went off. The circle was not quite fitted on when the spike started spewing out electricity, and the current traveled up my arms and through my body. I forced my hands to stay steady, and I shoved it into place. When I did, Bill's body stopped twitching and jerking, and when I pulled my hands off of it, and the current stopped within me. The spike itself was still humming, still producing electricity, but the rubber was conducting most or all of it.

Ben quickly pulled on the rubber gloves and grabbed the pliers. He set them up on the spike while the rest of us crowded anxiously around. He tried to remove it, but the pliers slipped. He tried it again, and it resulted the same. When he set the pliers around the spike a third time, Beverly put her hands on his. Then I put my hands on, then Richie, Mike, Eddie, Stan. We all held it down, and this time, it did not slip. We pulled, slowly, laboriously, pulling on the spike. And it was slowly sliding out, making a sickening grinding noise. It was not a real noise, or a natural one, but just something to frighten us, to try to convince us to stop. But none of us were fooled.

Bill's eyes snapped open. His hands shot forward, but the bounds held them back.

"Don't do this!" he shouted, but every one of us could here It in his voice. His face twisted, as though in agony, then relaxed.

"G-get r-rid of It," he said calmly, contradicting Its last statement. And we could tell that this was Bill, and only Bill. He lay back against his bounds, whether unconscious or just being submissive, I could not tell.

The spike slid free, and it was coated in blood. Bill's chest was a crater of blood, but it did not gush. The only blood that came out of him came out on the spike. And even as we watched, the open wound healed. Everything just closed up, and nothing was left to mark him, not even a scar.

Bill's eyes opened, and he looked down at his chest. He didn't see anything, but then again, he never had.

"Is it g-g-gone?" he asked.

"Yah Bill," Ben said. "It's gone."

"C-can y-y-you guys unt-tie me?" he said, and a slow smile appeared on his face.

"Naw, Bill, we's going tah leave yah there all night," Richie said. Although it was said lightheartedly, Eddie turned sheet white. I glared at Richie, and when he noticed, he looked back at me in confusion. I flicked my eyes once at Eddie, who was behind Richie, and Richie turned and saw him, looking on the verge of collapsing.

"You know I'm kidding," Richie said, facing Bill, but really talking to Eddie. Richie started untying the ropes around Bill's feet. Rather, he attempted to untie them. "Damn, Ben, you really tied these suckers tight," Richie said. Ben stepped up, jerked one rope down, and the whole thing came unraveled.

"Where'd you learn that?" Stan asked, impressed.

"I figured it out," Ben replied.

"H-hands too, p-please?" Bill asked. Ben grabbed the rope and yanked that down, and it, like a magician's trick, slid apart. Bill sat up, and in that instant, I gratefully resigned as the leader, passing that role back to Bill.

Bill glanced down and saw the bloody spike. "Was that what It put in me?" he asked quietly.

"Yah, Bill," Stan said quietly. "That's it."

Bill nodded, as though in agreement. "Let's s-send that f-fuh-fucker to hell," he said, and we could here his inner fire.

"Woah, Bill," Richie said, as though calming a horse. "Let's not get too hasty here. I say we…take the day off. And tomorrow, also. Take a little R and R."

"I'm going to bed now," Beverly said resignedly. Although it couldn't have been past seven, all of us where tired enough to sleep.

I woke up several times during the night, first when Eddie had nightmares, and I heard him wake up, because he woke me up when he did. But he did not cry out, but went back to sleep. When I fell back asleep, I found myself in the midst of a nightmare myself, but this one was Bill's.

It had the qualities of dreams, but I knew it was not mine. If it were, then it would be lucid, and I would be able to change things at will. But no matter how hard I tried, nothing would change. Everything was unreal and hazy, and I tried to find Bill, but I never did. I just wandered through the dark sewers that Bill's mind had created until my troubled sleep shifted, and I was in my own mind for the rest of the night.


	21. part two, chapter eight

CHAPTER EIGHT

I awoke the next morning to here Ben and Eddie quietly conversing. I got up and got some breakfast. As I did, I woke up Stan, and as he woke up, he woke up Ben. And so on, until each of us were awake.

"So," Richie asked as he sat up and put on his glasses. "What do we do today?"

"Same thing we do every day," I said. "Try and take over the world!"

"Wha…?" Richie asked, and dismissed it as some futuristic joke.

"I say we stock up," Beverly said. "And maybe get some clean clothes?" She glanced down disgustedly at the clothes that she had been wearing for the past several days. They had many stains, blood and sweat and dirt. The shirt had a ragged tear that I could not remember where it had come from. It ran up her side and ended right next to a place where it would be indecent if it ran much further.

"R-Right," Bill said. "Stalk up t-t-today, hunt It d-down tomorrow." He turned and looked at me. "S-Sara, can y-you…?" he asked.

"If you're asking me to hypnotize each of you in turn and have you go back to each of your respective houses to get whatever it is that you need, then sure," I said, smiling.

"Yah, p-puh-pretty much."

"Do me first, please," Beverly said, and she glanced down again at her torn and stained clothing with a grimace.

"Alright," I said, amiably enough, "But could you bring me back some clothes and stuff while you're there, too?" I looked down at my own clothing, disheartened. The jeans I was wearing were still intact, but they had blood and dirt and grime on them. My t-shirt was much worse for the wear.

"Sure," she said. She looked me over, as though deciding what size I was. I figured that I was about one size up from her, nothing that would matter too much. I could probably easily fit into her clothing.

"Let's do it," she said.

So I leaned in, falling into Beverly's eyes. Behind me, Richie mumbled something about lesbians to Stan, and I said to him, in a voice that already sounded far away and unreal:

"Watch it, Richie, or when I do you, you're going to wake up thinking you're a chicken."

He said something to that, something that sounded crazy, something in one of his Voices, but I was already gone, inside Beverly's head.

The wall that all the others had put up when I first tried to enter their minds was there, and Beverly's was long and durable and solid. But, after just a moment, it swung open like a door.

Beverly, at this level, was so strong, so fiery, that I found myself very nervous as I entered the subconscious part of her mind. If she decided to lash out, then I would be helpless. Of course, she did not, but all the same, being around so much fire was terrifying.

'Go to your house,' I whispered in her mind. 'Go take anything you think you need back here.'

When I pulled back into my own mind again, Beverly was already standing up, and as I watched, she turned and left. I wondered briefly how I had gotten back into my own mind with eye contact broken, but before I could ponder this long, Eddie asked hesitantly:

"Who's next?"

"Howzabout you Eds?" Richie asked with flourish.

"Sure," Eddie replied unsteadily, nearly questioningly. "But don't call me Eds." He didn't sound nearly as light-hearted as Richie, in fact; he sounded as though he were fighting back terror. Because of this, when I started to hypnotize him, I did something I had not done for the others: held his hand. But what the gesture was intended for did not serve its purpose. Eddie freaked out and completely locked his mind down, nearly catching me partially in, as though slamming a door on my fingers. I drew back as reflexively as I would have with my physical body, and I snapped harshly back into myself. When I did, Eddie was taking a huge breath from his aspirator.

"What h-happened?" Bill asked, worried.

"He freaked and blocked me out," I explained.

"L-Like I d-did the f-f-hirst time?" he asked.

"No. It was…it was more like Stan."

Stan looked up guiltily at that, but then turned his head away. I figured he was still angry with me for lashing out at him last night, and that was something that I was going to have to talk to him about when I got a chance. But for now, I would worry about Eddie.

"Do you want to try again?" I asked him. He did not answer verbally, but instead shook his head grimly.

"I c-can g-g-get it when I'm out," Bill offered.

"Would you do that, Bill?" Eddie asked. He sounded nearly awestruck, as though he had never heard of such a thing, or expected to hear.

"S-Sure," Bill replied casually, pretending he did not notice the hero-worship tone of voice that Eddie used that was impossible to miss. "Wh-What do you nuh-need?"

The two talked quietly for a few moments. While they did, I pulled Ben over.

"You wanna go next?" I asked him.

"Sure," he said, shrugging his shoulders. "Why not?"

So I did him next, for the second time. The resistance that I had felt with all the others was not there, or was removed for my benefit. When I entered his mind, I feel the strangest sensation: I felt like I was the one being hypnotized. His mind, quick and analytical, had me under surveillance in a way so complete that I felt that I had no secrets hidden from him. This was the second time, and Ben, knowing what to expect, took full advantage of everything he could.

I realized how hypocritical I was being, though. Here they were, each of them opening up their minds to me in turn, and here I was, hiding everything from them. I tried to push the 'watched' feeling aside, and tried to concentrate only on hypnotizing Ben so I could get out of his head. Still, the feeling was hard to shake, and I did the work I had come in for as quickly as I could, and I left. When I was out, I looked once at Ben, and mentally chided myself for being so afraid of him. But as I did so, I looked at his eyes, and even that quick glance brought full to life what had just happened. It had not seemed so much like I was entering his mind as he was drawing me in. It was strange, because none of the others (except for Stan, the second time around) had that much control over my actions.

He turned and left, and Mike asked to go next. I glanced up at Bill, but he was still talking with Eddie, whether about what Bill was to get or not, I could not tell. However, as long as Bill was tied up…

"Sure," I said. My head was throbbing slightly, but there was no pain, at least not yet. I felt proud that my abilities, that had once tied up and damaged my life, were now so strong and manageable. They had been no trouble to me since I had learned how to use them.

When I hypnotized Mike again, it was amazingly easy. I had already done him once, and that time was easy enough, and the second time, it was over and done with in seconds. I slid back into my mind, and he left. Easy.

Richie and Stan were left. Bill was still talking, and at this point I was almost positive that he was not staying on track. But I would talk to him after I had sent these two off. I looked at Richie, then at Stan.

"Ooh! Pick me!" Richie shouted, waving his hand furiously in the air, as though an enthusiastic child in a school, one who knew the answer and desperately wanted to give it. "Pick me! I want to go next! Over here!"

Stan and I shared a look, and we both smiled simultaneously at Richie's antics. I was relieved, because I knew at that moment that all was forgiven between us.

"I still think you should just make him think he's a chicken," Stan said. "Maybe he'd be a little quieter then."

"That hurts, man," Richie said, wiping away imaginary tears. "That hurts a lot."

"Suck it up," I said, trying on a Voice of my own, one that was a lot tougher then I was.

"Are you going to do this, or what?" Stan asked.

Beverly, then, climbed in through the door, carrying a suitcase and a backpack, and wearing new clothes. She sat down and stared blankly ahead.

"Think I'm going to pull Bev out, first," I said, surprised at her sudden appearance. It had only been about ten minutes ago that I had sent her off. I walked across the clubhouse, and as I leaned in for better eye contact, I heard Richie again, quietly saying something to Stan. It was about us, I could tell by his tone of voice. I filed that information away so that I could focus on Beverly, and decided to try something…devious when I was hypnotizing Richie.

Beverly came out quietly.

"That was strange," she said. She looked down, saw her new clothes, then glanced left and right, and saw her backpack and suitcase. "These aren't mine," she continued. "The suitcase or the clothes," she said as she pawed through the suitcase.

"They're store stuff," I said, noticing the tags on them. "Are they going to fit?"

"Yes," she said slowly, taking out a blouse, holding it up in front of her. "It looks like it."

"Then don't worry about it," I advised. Beverly continued to root through the stuff she had brought, just to see exactly what she had brought. As she did so, I walked back to Richie and Stan.

"C'mere, you," Richie said, pulling me right up close, right to where I had pulled everyone else to. Richie gazed into my eyes, but I turned that around by gazing into his. There was no particular barrier that I had to pass to gain entrance to his mind, but there seemed to be many along the way. I was cautious, though, and I maneuvered around each one. And when I implanted the idea for him to go and get his stuff from his room, I added something, mostly to see how much control I really had. To find out, really, what I could do.

'Get the stuff you need,' I told him. 'Bring it here. And when you hear "beep-beep Richie" from any of us …' I thought for a moment. 'Throw yourself on the ground. Land flat on your stomach or back.' I paused and thought for another moment. 'Don't hurt yourself. Don't hit anything or anyone.' I thought again. Was that all? This was a prank; I didn't want for anyone to get hurt. I decided that I had covered all the basics, and left his mind for my own.

Okay, maybe not the best that I could do, considering what power I had, but it was the first thing my mind thought up. Besides, it just seemed right somehow.

Richie stood up and left in a way I had never seen him before: quietly. At this point, I had a minor headache, but maybe I still had enough juice left in me to get Stan and Bill out of here.

"You going?" I asked Stan.

"No," he said. "Richie's getting my stuff."

I smiled a little and nodded, then turned to face Bill.

"Bill, you going" I asked him.

"Yah," he said. He walked over to me, and, like Richie, it was he who caught eye contact with me. Entering his mind for a third time was incredibly easy. He seemed to know what to do, and I hardly had to do anything at all before he was hypnotized through and through. I slid easily back into my own mind, and Bill walked out.

There was silence then. I was thoroughly drained, and I lay back against the wall. I was not looking forward to having to pull them all out again.

"By the way, these are for you," Beverly said as she handed me the backpack. I thanked her and quietly looked through it. The clothes were suitable for running and jumping what God knew what else I might have to do in them, but I was again struck by how old-fashioned they were, like how long the shorts were, and how plain the jeans were.

After about twenty minutes, Ben came back. I felt more rested by the time he did, but still, the idea of going back into his mind didn't thrill me. For one crazy moment, I considered just running off now, leaving him this way. Maybe it was just some crazy, spur-of-the-moment thought, or maybe it was the next thought, chasing close behind, that convinced me to stay.

'If you leave now, then you abandon Bill, too.'

My original intentions of running off seemed unreal the second I abandoned them. I went in and brought Ben's mind back with no fuss and no hassle. The helpless feeling, the one of being trapped, or of being closely observed under a microscope, was not there, maybe because what I was afraid of was pushed aside.

Afterwards, I was exhausted. I felt strange, alien thoughts swarming around me; things that my mind had copied from the others. The headache that had seemed inevitable did not surface, but I was drained, through and through. I fell asleep waiting for Richie and Bill to return. Beverly woke me up when Richie came back.

I was not too far into sleep, so I woke up with relative ease. Besides, I was now very curious if my post-hypnotic suggestion would take effect.

I pulled him out, and when he was, he looked down at the two suitcases he had in his hand.

"Yowza!" he exclaimed, dropping them both. "Whatta trip! Like bein' high!"

"Beep-beep, Richie," Eddie said, completely innocent of what would happen next. Richie's eyes, which I was watching closely, glazed over, and Richie threw himself down and covered his head. He woke up a half-second later.

"What the hell?" he asked, completely bewildered, uncovering his head and looking up. I was doubled over laughing.

"I can't believe that worked!" I said, and then resumed laughing. The other's looks of shock were slowly replaced by smiles as the pieced together what had happened.

"Did you…?" Beverly asked me, her face drawn back in a grin.

"You can do that?" Ben asked. He then broke out into laughter. I would have answered him, but I was still doubled over, gasping for air.

"Yah, yah, laugh it up," Richie said, standing up, dusting himself off. "She probably did the same tah you."

"No, no," I said, tears rolling down my cheek. "Just…just you…" I started laughing uncontrollably again.

"Damn you," he said, but he took it as a joke. He knew we wouldn't abuse this…too much. "Now get rid of it."

"No," I said. "This is too good."

Bill entered then, carrying a couple of suitcases. I looked at him as he did, and was surprised to see that he did not look hypnotized. Although he was, even from across the clubhouse, I could see deep into his eyes, and I could tell that he was.

But suddenly, as though I had been inches from his eyes, I was inside his mind. He was waiting for me, and I did not have to drag him out of his hypnosis, but pulled him up, as though he had tripped, and I was a helping hand. I believed that Bill could have, if he'd tried hard enough, pulled himself out. Maybe, in a way, he was learning to do this himself.

"H-How'd you do th-th-that?" he asked.

"I think that was mostly you," I replied.

"Bill!" Richie said loudly. "Glad tah have you back! We missed you!"

"Beep-beep, Ruh-Richie," Bill said. He stared in bewilderment as Richie, again, threw himself to the ground.

"W-What?" he asked, totally confused, as the rest of us burst out laughing again.

"I swear I had nothing to do with it," I said innocently.

"S-Sara, what d-d-did you have t-to do with it?" he asked knowingly.

"I really wish you guys would stop doing that," Richie said, picking himself up again.

"Post-hypnotic suggestion," I said. "Basically, every time someone says-"

"Don't say it!" Richie cut in sharply.

"Okay, every time someone says what you just said, he throws himself on the floor."

"And she wont get rid of it!" Richie complained to Bill.

"She finally got a way to get Richie to shut up," Eddie said gleefully.

"I say we keep it," Stan said.

"You guys suck," Richie said good-naturedly.

"If I were you," I said as ominously as I could while trying not to laugh, "I would start being a whole lot nicer to us."

It was still morning, but nearing noon. We took the day off, and stayed inside. Each of us wished that we could leave; that we could go outside and play instead of sitting in this small, cramped clubhouse that still smelled of smoke. The others seemed open to me in a way that they had not before I had hypnotized each of them. The only connection I felt to Eddie, however, was one of normal proportions. He was still, for the most part, cut off from me. For lunch, I hypnotized myself so I could get food for us. When I came back to myself, I had a large sack of food that I had probably raided from some store…and in my other hand was a monopoly game on top of the game Risk. There was no plastic wrap over it, so it was not from a store. When we opened it up, we found a deck of cards tucked inside.

"Where do you think that came from?" Ben asked, smiling.

"Damn," I said, "I have no idea where I went."

The day dragged on. We played card games and board games. And finally, it was getting dark out, and we knocked off a few of out last hours before we would to sleep just…talking. Just joking around. I reflected, as I had many times before, that just a week ago, I would have never felt so comfortable around anyone, and in a group, I would become practically mute. But here I was, talking and laughing with kids that I had only known for a couple of days. I felt like I had known them for a whole lot longer then that. Maybe, amidst the fear and terror, it was.

So we had a 'dinner' of junk food, and fell asleep. More dreams, not the fake dreams, but contact, haunted my night.


	22. part two, chapter nine

CHAPTER NINE

_"I want you to show me how to do it," Bill said. "How to hypnotize. Can you do that?"_

_We were out of our bodies again, floating in the macroverse._

_"How can I almost always talk to you when I'm asleep?" I asked him._

_"I don't know," he replied. "I haven't had a dream since…well…since It took over Derry. I've only had dreams of our lucky seven. Although, I guess it's eight now."_

_"But how?" I asked him. "How?"_

_"I don't know, and it doesn't matter," he said soundly. "It's great to have you around, really, it is, but we're far to dependant on you. That's fine, but if something happens to you…well…we need to be ready. Can you show me how to hypnotize?"_

_"I hardly even know how to do it myself…"_

_"That's a flat-out lie. That might have been true a few days ago, but you've been using it enough now that you know perfectly well how to use it."_

_"Maybe, but I don't know how to show you how to use it."_

_"Do you think it's possible?"_

_I thought that question over for a minute. A few months ago, I wouldn't have believed that anything like this was possible. But then I had been filled with this power, so strong that when I didn't use it, it turned itself on. And I had even not learned how to use it until a few days ago. Had Bill asked me the same question at any other point in my life, then my answer may have been different._

_"For the others…no. For you…maybe. I think you have the talent…but lack the power. In so many words, you're going to be fucking drained after each time." It was strange to tell Bill that he did not have power. He did, of course, but this hypnosis thing was an entirely different thing that required a totally different sort of power; this kind, a type I had in abundance that most were lacking completely._

_"It will be worth it. Teach me," he said resolutely._

_"Here? Now?"_

_"Sure, why not?"_

_"Well, we don't really exist right now."_

_"Close enough. Just show me how."_

_"Okay," I said. "First step is eye contact. You know that. You're the one who told me."_

_So Bill floated closer to me, and he dropped his head so he was looking into my eyes._

_"No," I said. "Don't look into my eyes. Look past them."_

_I felt him trying, but he didn't understand what I was saying. What had come so naturally to me was clunky and awkward when Bill tried it. Still, though, I felt that he could accomplish this, given enough time and effort. Not the same could be said for everyone._

_Unbeknownst to him, I looked into his eyes, drew myself into his mind a bit. Enough to subtly implant an idea, one that told him exactly how to do what I was asking. I had tried to tell him, but words were not enough. But this was, because a second later, he did it exactly right._

_But he was tired, I could see that. But he pushed on; reminding me of the time I had tried out for the cross-country team. I was getting more and more tired, but I would not let myself stop. And when I did, my legs turned to jelly, and I collapsed. I wondered briefly if he collapsed in my head, would I be able to pull him out? But I figured out here, in this macroverse, all I had to do was wake up._

_Finally, after what seemed like hours of his wrenching and forcing his way into my mind, he was in. I, still in control, gently took him out again, forced him back into his own mind. He fought me, but he was too tired to resist much. His face was flushed, with sweat rolling down his face._

_"What'd…what'd you do that for?" he asked me, panting._

_"You're too tired," I said. "You couldn't have gotten much farther._

_"I coulda…" he began, but he then quickly faded out of the macroverse. I wondered, for a brief moment, if he had woken up, if somehow, being to tired here could cause you to wake up on the other side. But I decided, then, that he had probably fallen from this level into a real sleep._

_I stayed here, in the macroverse for quite a while before I started feeling a light tugging. I went with the flow, and I, too, fell into a deep, dreamless sleep.  
_


	23. part two, chapter ten

CHAPTER TEN

"Do you remember last night?" I asked Bill the next morning. We both woke up early. Somehow, being in the macroverse made sleep seem a lot deeper then usual, so we just didn't need as much when we were there. Because nothing much had happened yesterday, all of us had stayed up later then usual. And because of the time that we had gone to bed, we would wake up later, also. Well, except for Bill and me.

"Sh-Sure I do. Does it r-r-really work th-that way?" He asked.

"Yah," I said, nodding. "That was a pretty fair representation of what actually happens."

"C-Can I try it n-now? Again?"

"You sure you're up for it, Big Bill?"

"I nuh-need to learn h-how to do this. It d-d-doesn't matter if I'm up f-for it."

"I just don't want you passing out in my head. It would be bad if you did."

"I'm not g-g-going to puh-pass out," he said indignantly.

"Okay," I said, fighting back the dubiousness in my voice. I let him try hypnotizing me again. This time, like last night, I had to slightly hypnotize him before he could me. But this time, he moved much more smoothly, although he was still a lot more awkward then I ever was. Still, though, he had a talent. I could not judge others off of myself, for my own power was given to me in a mass quantity, while the others could only go off of what they already had.

I had control over the situation the whole time. Bill looked into my eyes, but the barrier that my mind set up seemed to go down after just a minute, and he entered my mind just like that, no fuss, no struggle.

Once he was in, he actually got a chance to try for the next step, that was, to hypnotize me. I still held control, and I led him to exactly where he needed to go to access the part of every human mind that allows for us to be hypnotized. I put up a block around that part of my own mind, however, but allowed him to believe that he had done it. So he stepped back into his own mind, moving slowly. I could tell that, again, he was worn out. I was ready to catch him if he collapsed, but he did not. When he was gone, I shifted from the inside of my mind to my body again.

"Did I do s-something wrong?" he asked me when we were out.

"Nope," I said, still slightly dazed. While I had forced my way into all the other's minds, all except for Eddie, this was the first time that I had my mind invaded. "Why?"

"You're not hypnotized." Bill did not seem to notice that he was not stuttering, at least, not nearly as much as he usually did.

"I didn't let you. You did everything right. If it were anyone else, then they would be."

"Why are y-you special?"

"It could have been anyone at any point in time. The turtle gave me most of this. I'm not special. Just lucky."

After a few moments of thoughtful silence, I spoke up again.

"I think…I think one of us needs to hypnotize Eddie."

"Are you c-crazy?" Bill asked in the shocked tone of a parent fiercely defending their child. "He j-just stopped having n-n-nightmares."

I did not point out that he had still been having nightmares, although he had not been as vocal about them as he had before.

"Listen, I've hypnotized everyone else, and it gets us…closer. We could tell were you were when It had you, but only the ones I've hypnotized."

"But we d-don't all nuh-need…"

"You just got through telling me that we shouldn't be dependant on any one person. I don't think that Eddie should rely on us for this, either. And besides that, I think that it's going to be stronger if we're all in."

"You're puh-probably r-right," Bill said dejectedly after a moment's consideration. "But I d-don't think Eddie c-c-can let you."

"Then you need to do it."

"M-Me?"

"Whatatbout 'cha, Bill?" Eddie asked from his sleeping bag, his voice muddled with sleep. I glanced at the window, and saw that the sun was now mostly over the horizon. Bill jumped guiltily at Eddie's voice.

"J-Just wake up, Eh-Eddie?" Bill asked, hiding his nervousness, but an observer who was watching for it could tell easily enough that it was there.

"Yah," said Eddie, who looked too tired to notice much of anything right now. But he was waking up. "Nightmares. They weren't as bad, but still…" Eddie's voice trailed off as his eyes looked scared and vacant in the midst of memory. Bill shot me a look, one that clearly told me that he didn't want to do anything with Eddie that might damage him further.

'I think it might actually help to get rid of his nightmares,' I thought. But as I thought it, I looked at Bill's eyes, and so, said my thought right into his mind. He didn't jerk or wince when I did, but accepted it as something natural.

'It might make them worse,' he thought back to me. I could here his thought clearly in my head. It might have been one of my own, but I knew it was not.

'How would it make it worse?' I shot back. 'We're connecting him to us, more then he already is.'

Eddie had gotten up and grabbed some breakfast. When he turned around to look at us, we both quickly dropped our gaze away from each other, severing our connection. He turned back, and Bill and I resumed eye contact, and our conversation.

'He's still in a bad way," Bill thought to me. 'I don't want to be responsible for whatever might happen.'

'What are you worried about?' I asked.

'He might go crazy. You know he was in a bad way when you found him.'

"What are you doing?" Eddie asked me. I looked up, breaking the fragile connection again.

"Talking," I responded.

"With you?" he asked, looking at Bill.

"Yes," Bill replied. I suspected that, even if he had said more then that, he would not have stuttered, or at least, not stuttered as much. I was in his mind when I was sending him thoughts, and he was in mine when I was receiving.

"You…you can do that?" he asked, turning to me again.

"Apparently," I replied. "Just found that one out this morning. I'm always finding new things about this."

"Can you talk to me like that?"

'He's stronger then you think,' I thought. It did not reach Bill, though; my eyes stayed locked on Eddie. Eddie could not have possibly heard it, so my thought stayed in my own mind, bounced around there, and took meaning.

"I don't think so," I said out loud. "I can only talk to Bill like that because I've been inside his mind."

"Oh," Eddie said, sounding strange, and yes, disappointed. He turned away.

'We're forgetting one important factor,' I thought to Bill, locking eyes again. 'We never asked him if he wants to.' Without waiting for his response, I broke eye contact to look at Eddie.

"Do you want to be hypnotized?" I asked him.

"I don't know if I can," Eddie said nervously, looking at Bill as he spoke. Bill didn't look at Eddie, but back at me. Eddie then turned and looked at me, too.

"I can worry about that," I said. "I'm asking if you want to."

"Well, I want to be able to talk to you and Bill in your mind, and I want to be able to get visions of you guys if you need it. But I don't want to be hypnotized."

"Wh-Which do you want m-more, Eddie?" Bill asked, not trying to influence him one way or the other. He just seemed thoughtful and resigned.

"I guess I can put up with being hypnotized," Eddie said quietly. "If it's possible," he added quickly.

I glanced up at the others, who still seemed to be asleep. I glanced up at Bill, then at Eddie again.

"Now?" I asked.

"Yes, get it over with."

I locked gazes with Bill again.

'I think I can do it, but I'm going to need your help,' I told him silently.

'How can I?'

'Stay in my mind, and come with me into his. Do you understand what I'm saying?'

Eddie watched us, and seemed about ready to ask us what we were talking about, or maybe to make a comment about how we could always just talk aloud, but instead folded his hands in his lap and looked at them.

'I think I see what you're getting at, but I'm not sure if I can do that,' Bill replied in my mind.

'C'mon,' I said, and drew him in, and held him there, even when I broke eye contact to look at Eddie.

"Eddie," I said. When he looked up, I tried to slip into his mind.

He was terrified, I could tell that the second I had entered. I had hoped that, by going in when he didn't much expect it, that I would have an edge. This only partially worked the way I had expected. Some part of him had anticipated me, and was waiting. He violently fought back. This was not really Eddie, however, except for on the deepest levels. This was pure reflex, to fight back others, to fight back mind-invaders. I imagined that anybody, after going through the mental trauma that Eddie had been through, would fight back just as viciously as he was.

I had gone into his mind with Bill still in mine, and I let him free there. I did not attack Eddie, but defended myself, and tried to restrain him.

'Go,' I said to Bill, who I could not see, but I could tell he heard. I continued my struggle with Eddie, trying to reassure him, trying to prevent him from attacking more. He was not reassured, but he slowed, and then stopped his bitter struggle. He was still nervous, but I reminded him that it was only Bill and I and not anything else. It did not help much, only reassuring his surface mind, but it helped enough.

I was about to call to Bill, but he called to me.

'Got it. Let's go.'

I found Bill, and we left together. When we did, I found him in my mind again, where he had entered in the first place. I looked over to Bill, and let his mind travel back to his body. I then glanced back at Eddie.

What I saw was worrying. His eyes were bloodshot, his skin was the brightest white I had ever seen, and he looked as dead as Stan had when I had hypnotized him, maybe more so. His hair stuck together in clumps, and there was a fine coat of sweat covering his forehead, and most worrying of all, he was not breathing. My last observation I voiced aloud as I quickly looked over at the others, checking if they were still asleep. They were, although one of them had almost always been awake by now.

'Don't wake up,' I thought desperately. I wondered later if that thought had carried, maybe held them under the sleep barrier until we were through. It seemed likely, but for now, there was no time for thoughts like that. I just knew that if one of them woke up now, then we would have to waste a lot of time explaining things to them. Time that we did not have.

"Whaz goin' on?" Bill asked, disoriented and confused. I glanced at him, and locked eyes. I did not have to enter his mind to clear his thoughts out. Just having eye contact was enough to bring him back.

"I'm going to get him out," I said. I looked at Eddie, into his dead eyes, and dove in. I found where his mind was, and set it free. I quickly left for my own mind, before he could wake up, before he could figure out what was happening.

When he woke up, for a moment, he looked the same. But then he took a deep, hitching breath, and began to hyperventilate. He grabbed for his aspirator and triggered it down his throat several times. While he was doing so, the others woke up.

"Eddie?" Beverly asked sleepily, rolling over. "You okay?"

Bill looked at me furiously.

'Well, is this what you wanted?' he asked silently. He knew it was not, and he knew that it was unfair, because I felt his regret the second he thrust that thought at me. But he was scared for Eddie. I understood that, and he knew that I did. I was not angry at him.

"More nightmares?" Stan guessed. Eddie shook his head, but could not answer yet.

"I was hypnotizing him," I answered. Behind me, Eddie's breath had returned to normal, but I could see, out of the corner of my eye, that he had turned sheet white again, and he was shaking. Bill was silently comforting him, something that he had needed to do quite a lot lately.

"Why?" Stan asked.

'So I can talk to him like this,' I said in Stan's mind. Stan took a sharp intake of breath and clutched his head with one hand.

"What?" Ben asked, confused. I said the same thing into his head, then to each of them in turn.

"Can we do that?" Richie asked, awed.

"I think so," I replied. "But I'm not sure."

Richie turned and looked at Mike, and looked like he was concentrating. It was a strange look to see on Richie's face, which was usually so careless and, well, not concentrating.

"Anything?" he asked.

"Nothing," Mike replied. They both sounded interested in what they were talking about, but I, usually so empathic, felt none of their joy.

"You okay?" I asked, turning around to face Eddie. He smiled weakly and nodded. "I'm sorry," I said regretfully.

"It's okay," Eddie said. "I asked for it, didn't I?"

'Yes,' I thought as I turned away, 'but you had no idea what you were getting into.' I realized that Bill was looking at my eyes, and mine had been directed close enough to his so that he might have heard that thought. I felt suddenly jealous and furious that Bill, and that the others, were using the talent that had been given to me. The feeling was gone as soon as it had come, but the memory of it made me ashamed to be thinking the way I was.

Eddie suddenly jerked, and sat up straighter, as though he had been hit by something. He looked up at Bill as he asked tentatively:

"Was that you?"

Bill didn't say anything, but smiled and looked at Eddie, looked at his eyes, and Eddie smiled in recognition, and nodded.

'So, we can talk to each other in our minds now,' I thought. I kept this thought and my next thoughts hidden. They were for me to think about and ponder over. I would tell the others about them…eventually. Maybe after I had gone over them in my head. 'Now, how can we use this to kill the last two?'

'It could be useful during battle,' some voice inside of me thought, responding to my first thought. It was no one but myself, but it gave me perspective. Conversation, even if only with yourself, is a useful tool to finding or figuring out information.

'But how?'

'If one of us gets captured. Or it could just be a connection on a frequency that It can't here.'

'What if It can here us?'

'I would be shocked if It could. This was a special gift, given to you by the turtle. And the turtle is much more powerful then It is.'

'But is It really that weak? If Its Deadlights are taking over, and there's nothing that the turtle can do about it…'

'Maturin sent you. That's what he did about it.'

'Yah? Some help I am.'

'Hey, shut up. You're trying your best. And you've already gotten the others together.'

I considered briefly if I was crazy for arguing with myself inside of my own mind, but I pushed that thought away. If I had to split myself into two halves to get my thinking done, then so be it.

'You need to figure out how to do this without eye contact.'

'I'm not sure if that's even possible.'

'Yes, you do. You know that it is possible. You just did it with Bill.'

'How then?'

'Practice. Try new things. See what works. And…ask Bill for help. He's new at this, but he may see things that you've overlooked.'

'That might take a long time.'

'You have a long time to take. All the time you need.'

'During which we will slowly be driven crazy by each other's company.'

'If it were anyone else, yes. But you've been handpicked. You can survive together a lot longer then you think. And you're not going to go crazy, in fact, you're not even going to be too bothered by each other for a long time.'

'Still, though…'

'You're already figuring it out, anyways. You held Bill under, even while you were hypnotizing Eddie.'

I thought about that for a bit, and while I did, the two parts of my mind converged into one.


	24. part two, chapter eleven

CHAPTER ELEVEN

"Hey, I think I got something that time!" Ben said excitedly, snapping me fully out of my thoughts. "The number was 19, right?"

"Yah," Mike said. "It was."

"Black on white?" Ben asked.

"Speed limit sign," Mike said. I realized that the colors that he was thinking about were actually white on black. The colors were introverted.

"Are the colors switched?" I asked him. Mike turned to face me.

"Yah," he said. "They were." I nodded, and fell back in myself.

'I guess this is easier then I thought,' I thought to myself.

'You can do more then you think,' the other part of me spoke up. 'More often then not, it's more a question of what you can't do then what you can.'

"Wh-Who are you t-t-talking to?" Bill asked me.

I looked up at Bill. He had not been facing me, and I had been staring avidly at the dirt floor. Still, though, he had been able to tell that I had been conversing, even though it was only with myself. I was the best at this, obviously. The turtle Maturin had chosen me to give this to, me out of anybody at any time. But I supposed that Bill was the second-best. This was something that I had not understood for a long while, but it made more sense to me now. Bill had always been fighting against a mental block, for all of his life. His stutter. It was what blocked him from so much.

'It's more a matter of what you can't do then what you can do,' the voice inside of me thought again. I was looking at Bill, and he heard every word. And he knew that I was planning something.

"S-Sara?" Bill asked. "Wh-What are y-you thinking about?" his voice had a degree of nervousness in it, enough so that the others all stopped talking and turned to watch us.

'You know you don't always…' this thought was separate, something that came from elsewhere. But it fit. Bill heard it as it came.

"S-Sara," Bill said, with more then a touch of nervousness.

'This could make things so much better…' This was my last thought that helped me decide. My plan came fully into focus then, where before, it had been hidden deep in my subconscious, just out of my reach. The very front of my mind was focused on something else, a brick wall. So Bill couldn't see what it was I was examining and altering.

"Kwuh-Quit b-b-blocking muh-muh-me out," Bill said, sounding nearly hysteric. Most of his fear was instinctual, because some level of him realized what I was going to do.

'It will be better after,' I said, letting this ring throughout my whole mind, letting Bill here it. I shot myself forwards then, into his mind. I understood, somehow, that if what I were trying was to be done, it would have to be fast, it would have to happen this time, and Bill could not know anything about it.

Bridging the gap between minds was smooth and quick, seeing as Bill had already been halfway inside of my mind, looking for answers.

I quickly searched his mind for the part that was speech. More importantly, the part that forced him to stutter. Because Bill, already so much, could be so much more without this impediment.

But, as it turned out, it was not as much an impediment as it was a warped version of the normal speech. I expected to find this part mutilated, something beyond repair. But it was just shifted, able to be fixed. At least, it could be temporarily fixed. So I, operating almost purely on instinct, started to do so.

The agony of rewiring a mind is great. I could tell this as every pain sensor in Bill's mind went off. Not harshly, not incredibly painful. But surly it was causing…discomfort. In my doubt, I pulled quickly into my own mind, saw that Bill was clutching his head, but his facial expression was not in agony, but of some other unreadable emotion. The others were huddled around him, offering their support. Although they did not understand what was happening, they did know that it was me who was doing it. They did not try to stop me, however, perhaps giving me the benefit of doubt. Bill was distributing his pain instinctively amongst them. He, and the others, were feeling little, if anything of the little I was doing to him. I dove back into his mind and set back to work.

It only took a moment for me to finish altering his mind, and I quickly pulled out fully into my own mind.

"I'm sorry about that," I said, my voice sounding remorseful, at least as much as what I really was feeling. "But I need to know if it worked."

"If what worked?" Bill asked, angry and confused and hurt. He didn't seem to notice that his stutter was gone at all. The others did. "What the hell were you doing?"

"Bill?" Ben asked, hesitantly.

"You're not stuttering," Richie said.

"What are you talking…?" Bill started, but trailed off, and looked down at his mouth, as though expecting to see something different or strange there. All he saw was his own mouth, and he blinked and looked up.

"What did you do to me?" he asked.

"I got rid of your stutter," I said. "Temporarily, at least. I don't know how long it's going to last, but for a while, at least."

"Why didn't you tell me?"

"It wouldn't have worked otherwise. At least, I'm pretty sure it wouldn't have."

He thought for a long time, and did not speak at all. The others stayed put. After a long pause, enough time for Bill to grasp what was going on, he finally spoke.

'Thank you,' he said in my mind.

"It's not going to last," I told him aloud, awkwardly avoiding answering to him claiming that I had done something worth being thanked. "I could try to do it again, but you can't know what's going on when I do."

'Now why couldn't she have done that earlier?' I heard the thought, but I was unsure of who thought it. I wasn't looking at anyone, but I heard the thought all the same.

"So, Bill, the question, now, is: are we going to try to kill It again today, or are we all going to sit around and play mind games?"

"I don't know," he said, and then looked surprised, as though he had forgotten that he wouldn't stutter when he talked. He looked down at his mouth again, and then back up. "Can you show us how to better use these mind-powers?"

He was talking in more words then he needed to use, sounding totally unlike himself, but I guess that anyone would, if all of their speech problems had cleared up in a matter of minutes.

Beverly, I then noticed, looked completely lovesick as she looked at Bill. I felt a hot flash of jealousy that she should look that way; to let her feelings show through so nakedly, for the world to see. Even for Bill to see, if he chose to see it.

'I did that,' I thought, being careful to keep my surface mind blocked. 'I did that, and that makes it mine.'

I looked up again, and Beverly wore her mask of indifference again. I shifted me gaze, and Ben caught my eye. Something passed between us, something that only two jealous lovers can share. I understood how completely he felt for Beverly at the same moment he understood how much I had come to love Bill.

'He's at his strongest, now,' Ben thought in his head, knowing I would pick it up. 'I guess it would be hard for anyone not to love him.'

'And she, I suppose, is at her most beautiful,' I thought back to him wistfully. 'She's sharing in his power and glory.'

"Sara?" Bill asked me, sounding impatient.

"Oh, sure," I said, jolting out of the mind channel and back into reality, fighting down a nervous blush. "I can try, I guess." I had forgotten what we had been talking about, but the words had quickly popped out of my mouth, and as they did so, I reviewed how the conversation had been going. "I think you all might already be most of the way there," I added, now that I knew what it was that I was talking about. "Maybe just one more day…and that can go a long ways towards getting rid of It. Well, one of them, at least."

"Sounds good to me," Eddie piped up eagerly. Eddie, I supposed, would much rather spend the day with his friends ('does that include me now?' I wondered) then out tracking down a monster.

"Makes sense," Ben said after a moment's thought.

"No," Stan said quietly.

"What?" I asked. I had heard him perfectly fine.

"I said no," Stan said. "I don't know exactly what it is that you are doing, but I don't like it. I don't want to be a part of it."

We all realized how close he was now to saying that he was going to quit for good. It wouldn't be as easy as it would have been to quit out the first time, where all he would have had to do was to stop coming, but if he refused to help us here, then that would be a serious blow to us.

"Stan," Bill said, his voice a marbled mixture of pleading and commanding. "Are you in this with us, or are you out? Are you going to honor the promise that you had us made, or are you going to back out now?"

Stan looked down and didn't say anything for a long time. The rest of us didn't say anything, either, but looked anxiously at Stan. Finally, he looked up.

"I'll run with you guys this time," he said. We all breathed a sigh of relief, and we could all tell that he meant it, through and through. "But this is the last time," Stan continued. "I'm tired of this. I…I don't want to do this anymore. But hell, I promised, right?"

Bill nodded. "Good to have you."

"Are you going to learn how to use your powers, then?" I asked him. As soon as I spoke up, I was sorry that I had, my voice having nowhere near the strength that Bill had infused his with.

"I…" Stan started, stopped, cleared his throat. "I'll…yes, I'll try it." As he declared that he would try, he stopped sounding as scared, but sounded more firmly into this. Stan had been drifting away, and just now, Bill had snapped him back in.

As if on cue, the others started talking amongst themselves, and went right back to the mind-games that they had been playing all morning. I coached Stan first, while I still had energy, and then I called over Eddie, Ben, Beverly, Mike, Richie, and Bill. I worked deliberately in the order of the hardest to the easiest. I taught them everything that I could…which was only what they could pick up. There were still things that they should have learned, but I did not have enough time or energy to teach any one of them nearly as much as I wanted.

When I pulled Bill over, I was exhausted. In addition, I started feeling left out somehow. I was sitting off to the side, calling each of them over like a teacher would a student. In the meantime, the others were having fun and playing games (even, this time, Stan was joining them, actually seeming to be having a bit of fun with the mind games), and I was pulling them out. All these feelings crashed into me at once, and that included with my feelings for Bill just seemed unbearable. Suddenly, I was the student, and Bill the master. I could not hide the dismay and loneliness that I felt, and Bill caught every bit of it.

Without a word, he pulled me into a hug. As he did so, he also crept into my mind, finding his way with a gentle surety. He found the block that I had put up in my mind in the same way that I had found the block that he put up in his, and he removed it in the same way. There was no pain. This one was one that was used to being banished, but would rise again. I was not sure of the nature of the wall that blocked me off from everyone, but it was certainly one that stemmed from the old depression.

I hugged Bill back then, and I started to weep quietly.

'I'm sorry…' I thought incoherently. It had always seemed right somehow to apologize for crying. Because it had never seemed right to cry.

The others noticed that something was wrong, and they all grouped in, and the questions that I had expected were never asked, and the coldness that I had always felt was not there. They all made it into just one large group hug, with me and Bill together in the center, and Beverly and Eddie and Ben and Stan and Richie and Mike all around us, blooming off like flower petals. Something clicked inside of me then, something that been sitting vacant before, but suddenly snapped into place. Whatever it was, it brought back every ounce of mental power that I had ever had, and so much more.

I seized on this new power, and instinctively boosted us up. Our minds flew out of our bodies like cannons, and I was reminded of that fateful day, so much time ago, when the turtle had sent me to Derry for the first time, when I had crashed down and fallen unconscious. I snatched at that idea: the turtle. This had something to do with Maturin.

There was blackness for a minute as we went to wherever it was that we were going, and we all linked, not with our hands, that were millions of miles back on earth, but with our minds. We formed a circle in the darkness, every one of us. We were together now and forever.


	25. part two, chapter twelve

CHAPTER TWELVE

When I no longer felt the sensation of hurtling through space, the connection between us snapped like a cable wire. I assumed that we had all stopped, and something about here made it impossible to connect through mind, although that was only what we were. I considered that, and discovered that I could, in fact, feel my body, my legs and arms, and I could tell that my mind was in my brain, which was safely held in my head. I was here, and my mind had created this illusion.

I opened my eyes, and immediately wished I had not. There was light, and only light. Blinding, electric, terrifying. I closed my eyes again, but the light now penetrated through my closed eyelids, and I covered them with my hands. The lights were not upon me, I was not in them, but it was terrifyingly close.

'Where are the others?' I thought to myself. I re-examined what had just happened when I had opened my eyes, and caught details that I had missed when I was actually looking at it.

The first important thing was that this was indeed where the turtle had taken me the first time. There was no door, and I had not seen the turtle, but I knew without a doubt that this was the exact location of where I had been. But, like shallow ground near the ocean at high tide, the Deadlights had completely taken over, where they had been quite distant before.

I decided that he had probably moved, and considered for a minute how great the power must have been to see the turtle in motion.

I reluctantly stopped daydreaming, and focused on the important thing at hand. The second important fact that I had missed the first time around was that my friends, the others, were all here beside me. All floating in space.

"Don't open your eyes," Bill said from somewhere ahead of me.

"Gee, thanks for the forewarning, Big Bill," Richie said, sounding quite miffed.

"Anyone know where we are?" Beverly's voice piped up from somewhere on my left.

"Floating in midair," Mike said, sounding dazed, his voice drifting out from behind me.

"This is where I came through," I spoke up. I realized then that my lips did not move when I talked. I realized with a start that they had never moved when I was speaking in the macroverse. They had always stayed firmly shut, and even when I was talking with Bill, his mouth had never opened, either. This seemed so obvious now…but it had stayed well hidden before.

"Is everyone here?" Bill asked, after a moment of thought. I tried to probe around with my mind, to establish connection with each of them. But I could not. My mind stayed locked down completely. I felt trapped and powerless, and the lights, those damn lights, they kept shining and shining, and I thought that I would go crazy if I were here too long.

"I am," Eddie said.

"Here," Ben said.

"Disgruntled, but here," Richie said.

"Here." Mike.

"Yah." Beverly.

"Over here," I said.

There was a long pause while we counted everyone up in our head.

"Stan?" Mike asked, after a minute of tentative silence.

Nothing.

"Stan!" Beverly shouted.

I quickly tore through my brief memory again, the one of opening my eyes. I counted everyone I had seen. I had not seen Mike, but I had heard his voice behind me. The others, however…

I tallied up everyone who I had seen, and every one of them had been there. All of the six I could see. So Stan was here, but he was not answering.

"Stan!" Eddie shouted.

I sighed, wrenched my hands away from my eyes as I opened them, and quickly looked for Stan. My eyes were open for about five seconds while they adjusted, and during that space of time, the Deadlights seemed less terrifying and more…comforting. I cast my gaze around for Stan lazily, not longer fearing the Deadlights. Snatches of a song was occurring to me, "Float on."

(and we'll all float on okay)

"Stan!" I shouted as I saw him. His jaw was locked shut, and he looked dreamy and tired, as though he were asleep. He was gazing directly at the Deadlights. My own lazy content was startled away as I saw him, as hypnotized with these lights as he'd ever been with me.

(and we'll all float on alright)

I quickly dove forwards and slammed into him, driving his gaze away. I covered his eyes while closing my own. His hand grabbed my wrist and tried to take it off. I held firm. He tried again, but the struggle was much weaker, and he did not try again.

(already we'll all float on now don't you worry we'll all float on alright)

I quickly explained to the other six what had happened, what was going on. I talked quickly, and lost focus several times. Each time something important came up, the music in my head would turn up, driving out all other thoughts, and someone would have to ask me to continue, and prompt me to where I had been, and only then could I continue talking.

"Are you…" Beverly began after I had finished, but before she could finish the question, we were being hurtled through space again. This time was at a faster rate, so fast that there was only a brief sensation of movement before we snapped back into our bodies back at the clubhouse. So fast, in fact, that Beverly finished her question before she realized that we had moved.

'Alright, Stan?' her voice had sounded as though she were speaking out loud when she was talking in the macroverse, although her lips had probably not been moving. Now, she continued to speak with her mind, and we heard it for what it was; mind speak.

"Dunno," he replied slowly, sounding shaky and unnerved. "It had me, there. That…that was close. Way too close. "

"What happened?" Ben asked. "What the hell just happened?"

"It pulled me in before I could close my eyes," Stan said, his voice turning into a dull monotone. "And I was…" his voice trailed off, and he closed his eyes and shook his head. "Nevermind."

"Wh-What, Stan?" Bill asked. I noted that whatever it was that I had done with his mind was probably now wearing off. His stutter was creeping back into his voice.

"I was connected to It," Stan said unhappily. "And Bill, you were there."

"What are you t-talking about?" Bill asked, sounding as though he already had an idea.

"You sound like you're free, but It still has you. It's stepped back for a while, but It's still there. It wasn't in that thing it stabbed you with at all."

"But I was in his mind," I said. "I would've noticed…"

"No," he said. "I was already in the Deadlights. I knew. You told me to stop being so logical about everything, and now I'm telling you: I knew."

As he talked, his mind reflected openly just how close he had come, and I could see enough to know that he was right.

"I would have f-f-felt something," Bill said, confused. "I nuh-knew when it left. I could tell."

"I think It's hiding," I said. "Its…"

My voice trailed off as I got a nagging feeling. The one that I always got when my subconscious mind had figured out something that my conscious mind had not. I concentrated fully, and thought about whatever was bothering me. I probably could have fetched it out easily, but 'Float On' started playing in my head again, at full volume.

(and we'll all float on okay)

(and we'll all float on anyway)

I clutched my head and tried futilely to block it out. I had looked into the Deadlights, and I assumed that It had, now, some sort of power over my thoughts. I hadn't looked for long, and this was probably much worse for Stan, but this was enough to keep this important thought from surfacing.

"Sara?" Eddie asked cautiously. "You alright?"

(and we'll all float on alright)

The song was not even playing in chronological order anymore, but repeating over and over on every line that had the word 'float' in it.

"Just a minute. I'm

(well we'll float on good news is on the way)

trying to think."

I sat down and took a deep breath, expanding my lungs as far as they would go. I summoned as much of my mental powers as I could, and forced the song away…or at least to a lower volume. Almost as soon as I did, the thought I had been waiting for occurred to my surface mind.

It was dying.

I had, indeed, shot it with the silver. And although it had not gone all the way through, the silver had been slowly but surely taking its toll on It. By now, if It were not already dead, it soon would be.

'End of our problems, right?' I consulted my inner voice.

'No. Not by a long shot.'

'Why not?'

'Its still in Bill. And It will live there, and feed there.'

'What should I do?'

'Get It out while It's still divided between Its body and Bill's mind.'

A question occurred to me then, the thought of if this voice that I talked to was me.

'Who are you?' I asked.

'If I am you, or if I am from another side, it does not matter. I'm here to help.'

"It's dying," I said out loud, talking to the others. "The one that's in Bill…It's going to die soon if It is not already dead."

From there, almost the exact same conversation ensued out loud in the same sequence as it had in my own mind: Is this the end of our problems? Nope. Why not? It'll be in his mind. Can we change that? We'll have to work fast.

As we talked, Bill remained silent, watched us talk, looking uncomfortable and even a little bit scared. I had watched him before, watched him closely, and I had never before seen fear on his face. He was thinking, and even projecting a little, about the horrors of what had happened last time. I had not fully understood at the time just how bad it was, but I understood fully now just how horrified that Bill was to have to be facing this again.

'We're going to all go in, I think,' I told the others in mind speak. I was careful to exclude Bill from the thought, which made me feel as treacherous as it had before. 'I'm going to need your help. I need it now. We can get It out quickly, and then he can be free.'

'I'm in,' Eddie said, without a doubt or second thought. He pulled out his aspirator and triggered it down his throat. 'But we do it now.' His voice was suddenly full of commanding; almost the voice of Bill Denbrough; whom Eddie loved to the point of being willing to die for him.

'Yes,' I said, in the agreement of an equal. Had it actually been Bill speaking this thought, then I would have agreed quite a bit more submissively, but some part of me refused to submit to anyone besides Bill. 'Hold on to me, all of you.'

They understood that I did not mean physically, where Bill might see, but mentally, in this space where we had blocked him out. Eddie caught on first. I was looking at him, his eyes, and he was looking at mine. I drew him in carefully, but he threw caution to the wind and dove right in, taking a flying leap. I wondered briefly about where he had found his nerve and daring, but dismissed it for later consideration. When my gaze moved to Beverly, I barely passed my eyes over hers, but she caught onto my mind. My gaze moved, next, to Ben, who also caught on quickly, maybe faster then he would have if he hadn't been joining Beverly when he did so. Mike, who seemed to have a knack for this, was next. I didn't have to pull him in, because he climbed on quickly and naturally, making it seem a lot simpler then the others had made it.

I felt heavy. It felt almost pornographic, the way that I was taking to many minds into my own. I felt on the verge of shoving them out, regaining peace in my mind, and never using this sort of power again. But it was then that Bill had looked up, and his gaze passed over each of us. I wondered how much control he had now, and how much he had ever had since he had been taken. I felt another sort of power from him, one that was natural and somehow so much more then whatever it was that I had. And just by him looking up, he strengthened my resolve, and I moved on to struggle with pulling Stan and Richie on. They didn't want to, in the back of their minds, making it that much more difficult to get them on. But we all worked together, and pulled them on.

Bill glanced up, first at the window, and then straight at me. When he did, I stormed into his mind without warning, and pulled the others along with me, as though with a fishhook. They stayed put for a minute, but then they moved in with me. And then, in that instant, we were in his mind, ready to get our leader and friend back.


	26. part two, chapter thirteen

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

Bill's mind was not the thick fog that it had been when he had been possessed before, but it was not the same place that belonged entirely to him, either. There was some mixture going on…some struggle. Maybe not something that Bill had been consciously aware of, but something that had probably been going on for quite a while. While It had been strong enough to block me out entirely before, now It was having trouble staying in at all.

Counter-intuitively, this meant that It was closer to having complete control. Now, it was spending a lot of energy on Its physical form, but when that died, It would live in his head. And then, there wasn't much hope. Hardly any at all.

His mind was not something that could be completely sorted out by my mind, so my mind took the surroundings and changed it into something physical that I could understand: a bare room, with several doors. If I turned away from a door, it seemed to disappear, because when I turned back, it left only the wall. But new doors were appearing, and we were by no means trapped.

Before, I had compared entering his mind to a cave, but that was only a simile, comparing how I felt to his mind. But his mind had never before looked like something physical. This was more like a metaphor: it wasn't like a room; it was a room.

The others were grouped around me in a loose circle, and I awkwardly stepped back to join their circle instead of standing squarely in the middle of it.

"We need to work fast," I said to the others, and was surprised when what I had only intended to think to the others took a physical sound. Not only that, what I intended to be a whisper seemed to carry all around, as though riding on a wind, carrying far enough to worry me that It may have heard.

"It h-heard you," Bill said from behind me.

"Bill?" Beverly said, shocked. We all whipped around to see Bill standing at the edge of the room.

"Are you Bill?" Richie asked, his eyes wide and paranoid. "How do we know?"

"It's c-coming," Bill said. "There's n-no t-t-time…"

If it had been outside of his mind, it would have been obvious if it were him or not. But in his mind, which he was now being forced to share with his greatest enemy, it could have just as easily been It. So without thinking, I looked into his mind, to see if he was really Bill.

When I looked into his mind, I saw my surroundings, and saw myself looking into his mind. It was like looking out a window, only to see yourself looking out a window, facing a different direction. I saw myself, and got sucked in, and then it was like being in a row of mirrors, with lines of thoughts laid out to eternity. I saw myself seeing myself seeing myself seeing myself…I zipped along, and just kept going and going, looping over and over until…

"Th-That's enough."

This thought seemed to pierce the loop, and Bill forced me out of his mind.

"Real…" I mumbled, so the others could know that this was, indeed, Bill.

"We nuh-need to go," Bill said urgently.

"Why aren't you back at the clubhouse?" Ben asked.

"L-Later," Bill said curtly. He chose a door and swung it open. Inside was a long hallway. He started walking. Eddie quickly followed him. The rest of them looked at each other as I stood up, and then the rest of us followed along.

"I d-don't know if it's s-s-safe for th-the rest of y-you," Bill said, "but it's th-the best I c-can do. I nuh-know it's s-safe for me."

"Bill, we can't just hide," I said, frantically trying to reason with him as he walked quickly through the corridors of his own mind. "We need to fight it off, and soon."

"We nuh-need time to t-t-talk," he said. He opened a door and stepped inside a room. Eddie, who was following, stopped just outside, and bounced back a little.

"Ow…" he said, and raised his hand, and put it against where the door, if closed, would have been. It flattened out slightly, as though it were pressing against something solid.

"God D-Dammit!" Bill exploded from inside. "You c-c-can't get in, can yuh-you?"

Eddie shook his head and looked down, as though he were worried sick that Bill were angry at him.

From behind me, I heard a light, scuttling sound. It got closer and closer, and I looked down the way we came. At the end of the long hallway, a spider rounded a corner, and looked at us. It saw us.

In that instant, I understood that It was the spider, or at least, It looked somewhat like a spider. My mind was sorting things out and breaking things down so that I could understand things. It was not really a spider, but It was close.

"You should probably stay in there, if it is safe," Stan said to Bill, not having yet seen the spider. But as Stan turned around, he looked as though he would sell his soul to be able to join Bill.

"N-No," he said. "I c-can help."

I glanced, again, down the hall. The hall itself seemed to stretch out on and on for miles, but It was making Its way down like something shot out of a cannon. We had, at best, thirty seconds before we would have to fight.

"Bill, if you die here, then everything's going to collapse around us, and we're going to die," Ben said, as though he understood this as well, if not better then Bill.

"I d-d-d-don't think th-that It…"

As he talked, I glanced quickly down the hall again, cursing that his stutter had come back, full force, at such an inconvenient time.

"…will k-kill me. It's sh-sharing my muh-mind."

"And that's exactly why It will kill you!" I shouted. "You should stay in there and save yourself!"

The ominous scuttling sound had stopped. We all looked down the hall, and It was still there, but It was not moving anymore.

"It's dying," Eddie said quietly.

"When It's dead, It's going to be here, all the way," I said.

"Let's get It while It's down," Beverly spoke up.

None of us needed telling twice. We all ran down the hall towards It. While It had seemed much too close before, It now seemed very far away. We only ran for a minute, but by that time, all of us were out of breath.

"Bill?" I asked. "Are you going to make us something that can kill It? This is your mind."

"H-How?"

"Dunno. Try something. Anything!"

Bill closed his eyes, and curled his fist. Suddenly, a dagger's point jutted out, and Bill was holding a knife. I looked again, and saw that it was really a jagged rock. It looked so much like a knife, however, that the mistake was easy to make.

"Ey, Bill, ain't cha goin' tah make somethin' for us tah use?" Richie asked.

"I d-did," Bill said, not taking his eyes off of It. I didn't know what to make of his statement, so I put my hands in my pockets. And there, I found a jagged rock-dagger of my own. I pulled it out as Bill slowly started walking towards Its empty husk.

"It died," Eddie said. We all wheeled around and looked at him.

"What?" Mike asked dubiously.

"It died," Eddie repeated, his eyes glossy, his face a blank slate. "And It's coming back now."

"Th-Then we need to h-huh-hurry," Bill said, and turned to deal a blow that surely would have killed It. However, It woke up then, and It swung Its two front legs up in an X to block the blow. It then threw Bill backwards. Bill flew back and hit a wall. Blood began to drip from his nose.

Bill shakily stood up. He stuck out one hand, and a sword suddenly appeared in it. He charged at It, and Beverly and Eddie (who snapped out of whatever trance he was in) moved forwards to help, but then It was gone. The rest of us stood together in a huddle. Bill walked towards us, and as he did, he created a sheath, and put his sword away.

"Y-You all should p-p-probably get out of here," Bill said. "I d-didn't nuh-know how to fight It b-before, but I c-c-can now."

"Shit on that," Beverly said fiercely. "We came here to help, and that's what were going to do."

"Yah, common' Bill, you think we're going to let you have all the fun?" Richie asked.

"I j-j-juh-just think th-that…"

"Anyone want to leave?" I cut in, asking the others. I glanced over at them all.

Stan looked pale and frightened, but there was also a grim resolve on his face. It had not been there a second before, but it was there now. Stan was not leaving.

Eddie seemed to have developed some kind of connection to It, one at least as strong as the one he had developed to Bill. He knew how useful he was to us, and he would not leave Big Bill; not for the world. Eddie was going to stay.

I did not even have to wonder if Beverly was going to stay. She looked like she was impatient from just standing around talking. Beverly was a fighter, and that's just what she aimed to do.

Richie, although he seemed scared, had already voiced that he wasn't going to leave. And with him, voices were everything. He was in.

Ben, I imagined, would not have left for anything if Beverly were here. Besides that, he was dependable and strong, whatever else he may have seemed to be.

Mike may have been a bit more of a mystery to me, but from what I knew of him, when he was in, he was in all the way. There was no half-and-half for him. He had started, and he aimed to finish.

A moment of silence followed my question. Eddie triggered off his aspirator down his throat, and Richie pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose.

"We're in this together, Big Bill," I said. "You give us what we need, and we'll fight with you."

I saw a strange look in Bill's eyes, some emotion that I hadn't seen before, but he quickly blinked it away.

"Okay," he said. "I th-th-think I nuh-know where It ih-is. S-Stay close, and r-r-remember that th-this is just as muh-much Its mind as it is m-mine."

"We're here for you, Bill," Beverly said.

We formed a loose line, and followed Bill through the corridors of his mind. We had not gotten far, however, when Eddie fell to his knees, gasping for breath. He quickly grasped for his aspirator, and pulled the trigger on it.

"Y-You okay, Eh-Eddie?" Bill asked him. Eddie just looked up and shook his head. He tried his aspirator again, but he continued to gasp for breath.

"What's going on?" Ben asked anxiously. "Is…is It doing this?"

"I think…" Mike started, stopped. "I'll be back," he said, and disappeared.

"Where'd he go?" Stan asked anxiously.

"I think he left," I said. I glanced at Eddie nervously. He was doubled over now, with one hand on the ground, the other clutched around his chest. Bill and Beverly were down on their knees, too, next to him. Bill had his hand on Eddie's back, and Beverly was saying something that sounded soothing and comforting. Whatever it was, it wasn't working, because Eddie was still gasping for breath.

Suddenly, Eddie took a deep breath, and stood up. Whatever had just happened, it was over.

"See, Eddie, you're okay," Beverly said.

Eddie nodded. "Yes," he managed to get out. He triggered his aspirator down his throat again, even though he seemed to have no trouble breathing.

'I think I'm going to need some help getting back,' Mike's voice suddenly spoke up in my mind.

"Mike?" I asked in my mind. But again, as before, my mind-speak carried into regular talk.

'Yes, I can't get back.'

"What 'choo talking 'bout, Willis?" Richie asked. I shushed him with a waving gesture.

'Eddie…well, when he left his body, it was balanced up, but it fell forwards, on to a pillow. I put him back up. Is he okay?'

"Yes, he's fine now. How'd you know?"

"S-Sara, you know something th-th-that we d-don't?" Bill asked.

"I'm talking to Mike," I told him.

'What?' Mike asked. Apparently, he also heard me when I spoke aloud. It was like trying to hold two separate phone conversations on two separate phones at once.

"What was he doing?"

'I just assumed that…'

"Is he coming back?"

There were so many voices in my head, I thought I was about to scream. Instead:

"I'm going to get Mike now," I said quietly. I blocked out all the voices, and focused my mind back into my body. I snapped back suddenly, and found myself back in the clubhouse.

The first thing that I was aware of was the darkness. I glanced up at the window, and saw light streaming in. I looked away…darkness. I was reminded of coming inside after I'd been out in the sun, swimming or otherwise. My eyes had always violently constricted, and, being blue, refused to dilate for what seemed like forever.

"Hey, you taking us back?" Mike asked. I whirled around, trying to find him, trying to see. I realized that his eyes were brown, and he could probably see just fine.

"Uh, yes," I said, my eyes wide open. I could only just make out his outline.

"What's wrong with you?" he asked.

"Can't see very well," I said. "My eyes are blue, which means that I have night-blindness."

"But it's not night."

"It's too dark. It was better lit in his mind."

"I can see fine," he said.

"I don't know if I can get you back if I can't see," I said, my voice suddenly turning fearful. And why shouldn't it? I had no reason to be calm, with all the others trapped back in Bill's mind, where It could attack at any time.

"Should we go outside?" he asked.

"I don't know how safe that is," I replied. Still, though, I considered his thought. "How did you contact me?" I asked, changing the subject.

"It wasn't that hard. You're, well, hard to miss. Mentally, anyways."

I tried to contact Bill then, but since he was inside of his own mind, he was, in a way, locked off. And none of the others had enough power to receive me, so I gave it up after a minute.

"Can you see any better now?" Mike asked.

"No," I said. "I think we need to go outside, like you said."

"Okay." he flipped up the door, and bright light streamed in. He turned his head for a minute, but his eyes adjusted quickly, and he looked over to me.

"That's probably enough light, actually" I said. I stepped into the square of light, and pulled Mike smoothly into my mind.

'Now how to get into Bill's mind…' I thought to myself. I glanced around the rest of the clubhouse, which was now completely shrouded in darkness.

'Pull him into the light,' Mike said from the back of my mind.

I frowned at the open door, wondering exactly how safe it was to stay in here with an open door if we were unconscious. I pulled it shut, and the window let the sliver of light in again.

'I can't see him, though,' I told Mike. 'I don't know where he is.'

A sudden image flashed in my mind, one of the clubhouse in the light. I knew that it was how Mike had seen it just a minute before.

'My God, they all look dead,' I said. I felt my way around, and found a hand. I figured it was Bill, and dragged him into the light. Sure enough, it was Bill. I found my way into his mind, weaving my way around the blocks he had set up in my path. After a minute, I was in, and a second later, Mike was with me. I closed my eyes and covered them with my hands, as I had when I was near the Deadlights. My eyes were slow to adjust from the real light of the clubhouse to the well-lit corridor of Bill's mind.

"You all right, Eddie?" Mike asked.

"Yah, fine," Eddie said. He had stood up again, and he was not shaking or gasping. "What happened?"

"It wasn't your asthma," Mike said. "You fell forwards onto a pillow."

Well that broke Richie up for nearly a minute. The rest of us watched him with half-amused smiles as he laughed.

"You're serious, aren't you?" he asked Mike, and broke out laughing again.

"Beep-beep, Richie," Eddie said, and Richie immediately threw himself to the floor.

"Alright, when does that wear off?" Richie asked, picking himself up. He was not quite sober, but that, at least, had calmed him down some, and the hysterical laughter seemed to be gone for the moment.

"When I take it off," I told him. We had started moving again, following Bill.

"Aw come on! You're telling me that it isn't just going to go away?"

"Yes, pretty much."

'What is this?' I thought to myself. 'What sort of power is this? If I were doing anything like this with any other group, even my own group at home, we would not be like this. Not be able to be like this. How can we be talking and joking…and having fun?'

"Why does that still work?" Ben asked, yanking me out of my thoughts. "I mean, it's something that you made Richie do, but none of are really us anymore, are we?"

"I think that what we are now is mind," I said, speaking slowly as the thoughts came to me. "Just…just a core essence. And that's where everything about us is, isn't it?"

"I guess so," Ben said. I watched his eyes, and I did not see that click that I had seen when he had really understood something. He didn't understand, and even I felt like I only had a slippery grasp on it, like trying to hold a greased fish.

"It's c-c-coming," Bill said, stopping suddenly. We all stopped, and we listened. I thought I heard something, only for a second, but then all of the lights simultaneously went out.

"Bill?" I asked, my voice penetrating the darkness.

"I'm nuh-nuh-not doing th-this," he said, sounding as shaky as I felt.

The temperature suddenly dropped, and the clean smell that the hallway had held faded into a rotten, sewer smell. On instinct, I reached out and touched the wall. It had turned to stone. The temperature had dropped about 20 degrees, and the stone was smooth and cold.

"Well, folks, I think we're back in the sewers again," Richie said.

A common phrase from my time occurred to me: get your mind out of the gutter. I clasped my hand over my mouth to prevent myself from laughing aloud. I was either about to start screaming or braying hysterical laughter that would never stop once I allowed it to start.

"Are we all here?" Stan asked quietly.

Each of us, in turn, answered an affirmative. But as each of us answered in turn, the voices drifted further and further away.

"G-Get together, all of y-y-you!" Bill shouted suddenly, realizing what I just had.

"Where are you?" Eddie asked. His voice sounded like he was down a long hall.

"We need a light!" Beverly shouted. I could barely here her.

And then…silence.

"Is anyone there?" I asked quietly. I was expecting, or maybe just desperately hoping to here one of them respond, with a shaky voice, but happy to not be alone.

But there was nothing.

And to top it all off, the song that It had implanted in my head before was playing in my head again. I felt the hysterical laughter surfacing again, because I was scared. I thought I could just snap at any minute.

I laughed once, and forced myself to stop. But then I began to sing.

"I backed my car into a cop car the other day

Well he just drove off sometimes life's okay.

I ran my mouth off a bit too much: what did I say?

Well you just laughed it off it was all okay.

And we'll all float on okay

And we'll all float on okay

And we'll all float on okay

And we'll all float on anyway

Well-"

I heard a soft chuckling. There was nothing happy about that sound. It was demonic and full of malice. I stopped singing, wondering what had ever possessed me to start. I felt delirious and wild.

"You'll float on, alright," It said. I knew that It had taken the form, again, of the clown. "In the Deadlights. Great place to float. All expenses have been paid, you just pack your bags and off you go!"

I tried to return back to my own mind, as I had when I was chasing Mike, and I almost got through. But as soon as I was almost out, I snapped back, like I had been running through a rubber band, with the tension getting tighter and tighter until it pulled me violently back.

"You can't run, and you can't hide!" It shouted. I turned and ran anyways, into the darkness, away from Its voice. It followed, however. And it slowly closed in. It took Its time, but I knew that It was getting closer and closer.

I ran into a wall, and quickly turn right and kept on running. I ran into another wall before I started running with my hand outstretched.

'Your hand at the level of your eyes…' a random line from The Phantom of the Opera slid across my mind, then dropped off, leaving me with nothing but blind panic.

I bounced off another wall, and turned left this time.

Running in the dark. This, above all, would have to be my worst fear. If I could not see my enemy, then it may take whatever proportions that it may choose to. There are no limits to how scary it may be. Fear poured out of my veins in streams. I would have been angry, at It, for getting me into this, and at myself, for letting myself being pulled in without a fight, but I was simply too scared to feel anything else.

I became suddenly certain that I was just running in deeper and deeper, and then It would get me much easier. I could here It behind me, slobbering and growling like a rabid dog. But I forced myself not to think, not at all, because if I did, then I might start having second thoughts about what I was about to do. And then, all would be lost.

I forced myself to stop running, forced myself to turn around, and forced myself to stop panting. I heard It slowing down, but still closing in.

"I can't see you," I said, trying to get my voice to get as powerful as Bill could. "But I can fight. I know karate. Maybe not much, but I can still give you one hell of a fight. And I know a hell of a lot of Aikido. So go ahead. Give me your best shot."

It had stopped growling and making those animal-like noises that it had previously, so It could listen to me, I assumed. But as I stood back in a karate stance, I realized that I was alone. I began to walk forwards, the way I came. I expected to run right into It, and I resolved to fight like hell until I got away…or until I was dead. I refused to let the fear back in, and I roughly shoved in other emotions in its place: anger and resolve.

I did not run into anything. I was truly alone. However, I was lost, now, in the caverns of Bill's mind. I closed my eyes and started walking.

I thought as I walked. I kept my thoughts firmly away from It, from the chase, and directed it instead to my previous times in Bill's head.

I hadn't gotten lost in his head. Ever.

"But It was already here, wasn't it?" I asked aloud.

'Yes, yes it was,' I answered myself. 'But you still didn't get lost. The only reason you're lost now is because you think you're lost.'

I stepped on something knobby and stick-like then. I almost fell over, but righted myself quickly. I picked it up, and, unable to see it, just felt it.

'It's in the dark. It can be what you want it to,' I thought.

'Very well then. It will be a wand. Just like the ones in that Harry Potter book series.'

"Luminous," I said aloud. I couldn't exactly remember if that was the incantation for light, but apparently, my belief that it was the word was enough even if it weren't the word, because the tip lit up. It was just a small light, but it was enough for me to see.

Now that I could see, I had a vague idea of where I was, and began to walk.

'I guess I do have at least some power over his mind.'

'He probably has some over yours, too. But that's not important now. You need to find the others, or they could die. I don't know why It left you alone, but the others might not be as lucky.'

'Who am I looking for?'

'Who needs you the most?'

'I think maybe Stan or Eddie will need someone the most right now. The others will be okay.'

'Eddie will be okay. He knows his way around Bill's mind, and he can find his way most places, anyways. I think it's Stan you need to worry about.'

'Where is he, then?'

Whatever inner voice that I had been consulting with stopped talking. So I just started walking, and as I hit each junction in the hallway, I took whichever path looked the best. I knew I was on to something, even if it wasn't Stan's trail.

However, as it turned out, it was. I found him slumped against the wall, unconscious.

"Stan?" I said. He did not stir. I looked him over, and on his arm, through his sleeve, I saw blood.

"Stan!" I shouted. I ran to him, and as I did, the lights flickered, just once, and turned black again. They showed a hallway again, but when they went off, my light showed the stone walls again.

I considered this for a minute, but shrugged it off. I pulled up Stan's sleeve, and I found a deep, bloody gash. I stared at it blankly for a minute before I realized what had done this. The wound, this one among others, was a peck mark. Although they looked painful, they, in no way, looked dangerous or deadly.

This bothered me for a reason that I could not put my finger on. There was the obvious discomfort of this whole situation, but for some reason, the peck mark just seemed wrong…or different somehow. It shouldn't have been a peck.

"It should have been the dead kids," I said suddenly, aloud. Stan stirred as I said this.

"It was always the dead kids for you, wasn't It?" I asked Stan.

"Yus," he said, sounding confused and more then a little dazed.

"Yes," I said musingly to myself. "The bird…that was Mike's. And even when It was chasing me…" I had started to pace, and Stan struggled to stand up.

"It wasn't the phantom figure," I continued. "It was Richie's werewolf.

"They're all property of the Loser's club," Stan said. He had stood up, and he let his hand, which he had been using to support himself, fall from the wall it had been leaning against. "It can use any against us."

"But why would It do that?" I asked. "Why use each other's horrors instead of our own?"

"I don't know," he replied.

The lights flicked again, and the dungeon-like surroundings that we were in flicked back into the lit hallways of Bill's mind. This time, they stayed on for about a minute before flicking back. When they did so, the wand that I had been using disappeared.

"I think Bill's doing something," Stan said in the darkness. "I think he's trying to get it back."

"We need to get the others," I said. "Or we need to help Bill. We need to…do something!" I felt panicky and desperate.

"We need to think this through," Stan said. He also sounded like he was fighting back panic. And I realized, almost too late, that he sounded like he was drifting away.

"Stan!" I shouted. "It's doing it again! It's tearing us apart!"

"What?" he asked, sounding confused and very far away. I panicked then, and dove for his voice in the darkness. I ended up tackling him around the middle and pulled him down on top of me. On the ground I grasped for his hand. We continued to drift for a minute, and I felt the tension between our hands. But he tightened his grip around my hand, and the consistent tugging slowed, and then stopped.

"You alright?" I asked him. I lay on my back, my hand in his, and looked up.

"Yah," he said. "I'm okay. I think…I think you tore my shirt." I realized that whenever It was in control of our surroundings, the floor was dirty and rocky.

The lights flicked on again, and suddenly, we were in the hallway.

"We need to get moving," I said. "Now that we can see."

"Sara?" Ben's voice drifted down the hall. He appeared at the end of the hall. "Stan?"

"Ben!" Stan shouted. The lights flickered then, and again. They did several times, and each time, the darkness lasted a little longer.

"They're going to go off again," Stan said nervously.

"Ben, c'mere," I said. "Quickly."

He began to walk towards us, but the lights snapped off again.

"No!" I shouted, enraged. "I wont let it!" I concentrated all of my power; ever bit I had, on flipping the lights back on. I fell to my knees, held my head, and forced the power out of my in waves. The lights did not snap back on, as I had hoped, but slowly lit to a dim lighting. The walls were a nightmarish combination of the cold stones and the wooden and plaster of the hallway, and the floorboards were ripped away in many chunks to reveal dirt and grime.

"Get over here now," I directed to Ben. I did not look up to see if he was coming, but trusted that he would. I felt him lay a hand on my shoulder, and I let the power off. I grasped Ben's hand in one of my own, and Stan's in the other. I stood up.

"We need to stay together," I said quietly. "I can't keep the lights on for long."

"What's going on?" Ben asked. He did not sound too scared, but more curious.

"We don't know for sure," I replied.

"We think Bill's at battle with It now," Stan explained.

"And the lights?" Ben asked.

"I think that the lights, when they're on, means that Bill's winning," I said. "But when they're off…"

"We need to help him," Ben said.

"I think we need to find Mike and Beverly and Eddie and Richie, first," Stan said.

"We need to…" I started, and the lights flicked on, reveling to us Mike and Beverly, who were holding hands. Beverly was out in front, and she blinked her eyes rapidly, adjusting to the sudden light. Mike, however, looked to us.

"Hi," he said, sounding surprised. Beverly snapped her gaze to us, also. They let their hands drop, and walked towards us.

The lights flickered, once, and I glanced nervously up, but they stabilized.

'Driving me crazy…' this thought drifted across my mind. Somehow, I didn't think it was one of my own. I knew it was not Bill's, because then I could tell that it was him…

"Where's Bill?" Beverly asked me, snapping me out of my thoughts.

"I don't know," I replied. "I don't know much of anything right now."

'Damn it, Richie, could you just shut up?' the same voice drifted across my mind, and I recognized it as Eddie's. I quickly looked around, catching every detail of where I was, and sent the image to Eddie. I felt a slight drain in my already-low energy, and I felt Eddie receive it.

"Well what are we going to do?" Mike asked. It was not directed to me, but I answered anyways.

"I think we should wait…I think Eddie and Richie are coming soon."

"You know something we don't?" Beverly asked.

"I contacted Eddie, and told him where we are," I said. I thought about what I had just done, and I had no idea how I had done it. If I was to contact him, in this form, then I would have to actually run up and talk to him. But it seemed that my mental-form had a mental aspect to it, too, instead of just a physical representation.

The lights flickered again. We all quickly grasped hands in a circle, waiting for them to go out. They flicked a few more times, and then stabilized.

"Are you sure he knows where we are?" Stan asked me.

"Pretty sure," I said.

The lights flicked off again.

"Help me…" I mumbled. I knew the others heard. I forced my strength out again, and forced the lights back on. I realized, dimly, that my power was not actually going to the lights, but to Bill, and the strength was enough to help him keep It back, enough to keep this mind his, consequently keeping the lights on.

But the specifics didn't matter. What matters was that the lights stayed on, solely with my help at first. But I felt the others opening up, letting the power run through them to me so that I could ship it out. I felt it leave in a steady stream.

'How much longer is this going to last?' I thought distantly.

"What you all doing?" a voice belted out down the hallway.

"Richie, could you please shut up…"

I ignored them while they walked across the room to us, keeping my focus solely on keeping the lights on. Because if they were off, then there would have been no point of them getting this close at all.

"Eds here told us just where tah go, and here ya'll are!"

"Join the circle," I instructed, feeling connected, solid. Feeling, even slightly possessed. I looked up briefly to see Eddie and Richie join the circle between Stan and Ben. When all their hands linked, I felt something so strong that it was nearly physical race through us.

"Bill is everywhere," I said, the words flowing free of my mouth with none of my own thoughts to direct them. "This is his mind…and he is everywhere within. However, there is another now. For It is here, too. Bill is fighting a valiant battle, but he will loose without us. He is only one of us, but it is we that make up the whole."

"We're here," Beverly said softly. In the context, it could have meant a number of things, but we all understood what it really did.

"We can help," I said. I felt something flow around us again, and then it channeled off, leaving us with an incredible amount of force. Then that force drained, and I forced the remainder of my own power through it.

The lights flashed a brilliant bright light, and then the fluorescents exploded outwards. Someone let go then, and there was a sudden break in power. Before this processed in my mind, I continued sending out the sheer quantity of power, only it was my own I was drawing out of. I cut it off as quickly as I could, but it was not fast enough. All my strength left my legs, and I started to fall…

down…

(where's the floor? why am i still falling?)

down…

I snapped awake in the clubhouse.

"God damn it!" I shouted aloud. The others had not yet woken up, and their bodies were strewn across the clubhouse like corpses. I didn't know for sure if It was dead. I quickly stood up and ran over to Bill. But everything seemed to have taken a very dream-like quality, and it was like running on a conveyer-belt. I ran faster and faster, and then, finally, I reached him.

I glanced back, briefly, to look over the few feet that I had run in what seemed like several minutes of sprinting.

I looked down into Bill's eyes, but for some reason, Richie's glasses were on him. I tried to get into his mind anyways, but the glasses just got thicker and thicker until I couldn't see his eyes at all.

I quickly knocked them off, and when I did, Bill's eyes were gone. Two spiders crawled out, reveling twin lights from each of his eye sockets that their plump bodies had hidden before.

It was the Deadlights, and when I looked into them, Bill was there.


	27. part two, chapter fourteen

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

I snapped awake.

I was trembling, covered in cold sweat. I looked up, expecting for things to take the qualities of my last dream, expecting just to live the same nightmare over and over.

But as soon as I looked up, I knew that it was different. The others were not awake, but they were no longer in Bill's mind. They were all asleep.

I quickly reviewed what had just happened, and figured out what was real, and what was just a dream.

"Just a dream," I murmured aloud, still shaking. I crossed my hands in front of my chest and grabbed my arms, a kind of self-hug. "Just a dream, shh, it's okay," I said, reassuring myself.

I stood up and walked across the small clubhouse to Bill. I glanced over at Richie, to make sure his glasses were still on his face, and indeed they were. I looked back at Bill, looked into his eyes, and fell into his mind.

It wasn't the same as it was before, because this time, Bill was deep within his dream. I watched from my spectator's viewpoint as Bill watched Eddie's eyes, as the clown silhouette rose up behind them. And Eddie stood up, and I knew that Bill knew that Eddie was Its puppet now.

"It's a dream," I said aloud. Bill whipped his head around to look at me, then back at Eddie. "You can make it go away…you can take us to the macroverse. You don't have to deal with this. Trust me."

"B-B-But Eh-Eddie…"

"Is safe at the clubhouse."

Bill's dream had paused as he was talking and listening to me. Suddenly, it all cleared out, and we were back in the macroverse again.

"I don't think you got rid of It," Bill said. "It's what's making my dreams. I can tell."

"But I've been having the same dreams," I responded. "It was a lot like that, only it was about you."

"Oh God," Bill said, his eyes suddenly filling with horror. "I think…I think it jumped on to you. To all of you. Like a disease."

"Don't say that, Bill," I said nervously, knowing that he had probably just hit that nail strait on the head. "Don't even think that. You're going to jinx us."

"We need to get the others here," Bill said. "We need to get rid of It."

"It's dead, Bill," I said. "I know…I remember. The lights exploded. That was you, taking over. Whatever's left…it's just residue."

Bill stopped to think about that before speaking again.

"If it is only residue, we need to get it off, before it can mutate into something more deadly."

"I guess that's possible, but how do we get rid of it?"

"We need to get the others. Out here."

"Have they been out here?"

"Yes. I've had them all out here before."

"Can you get them now?"

"Sure," he said. He closed his eyes, and then, one by one, they appeared, forming a circle. Bill and I were on opposite ends, facing each other.

All the others had just been yanked out of their own nightmares; nightmares that were ghoulish parodies of what waking in real life would be like.

Bill quickly explained what we had deduced, and we all linked hands. To cleanse ourselves out, and to cleanse each other.

For a moment that seemed to last forever, there was nothing. But I opened up, and one by one, the others did, too. The power flowed around us.

Beverly, first, imagined a windy cliff, a place high above the land, somehow standing out, and that was good, and it was clean.

Richie, imagined a waterfall, the water cool and clear, washing away dirt and…sin? Indeed, he was thinking about washing away sin.

Bill imagined a thunder-strike, obliterating the unwanted in a single sweep.

Eddie imagined a hospital, with clean white sheets and the pretty female nurses.

I imagined a fire, slowly turning the impure residue into ash.

Ben imagined a native tribe, living off the land, living a pure and hopeful life.

Mike imagined a book, not a new one, but one that has been made sacred by the ages.

Stan's thoughts were, for a brief moment, a mystery. We all could tell what the others were thinking, and we knew that Stan did, too. We all waited for him to let go, to release whatever thoughts he may have had. I probed gently into his mind, and it was just enough to let a swarm of memories into each of us. Years of attendance at the synagogue, his Bar Mitzvah, watching birds in the park, learning at school…

There were many thoughts, memories, actions, being pure, being clean, and suddenly, we all understood full well what Stan was sacrificing to run with us, even for a short while.

Our attempts at cleansing ourselves seemed incomplete, but now, after Stan's contribution, it was enough. We were clean, we were pure again. Whatever It had left in us was gone.

"Stan…" Ben trailed off.

"It is enough," Bill said, and we were all cast back into our own dreams again. The nightmares did not persist for any of us that night, not even Eddie, who had been having so many bad dreams lately.

My own dream, that night, was dreamt in a waking mind, and it instantly turned lucid, and I was the master of it through and through.

Before the night was over, and before my dream faded, I was left considering, as though in a waking state, how much I had been through, and wondering just how much more of this I could take.

But this part was over, and my time running with 'The Losers' was over half-over. It would get better later, but I understood, now, that it was coming to an end; that everything was coming to end together.

I awoke early the next morning with tears on my face.

END PART TWO


	28. 3,1

PART THREE CHAPTER ONE 

We all awoke, almost simultaneously, with more then a few of us crying. None of them could really understand why, and they all seemed to forget about it after a while.

I knew why.

At first I thought it was solely me because I was still distancing myself from them, but I realized quickly that this simply was not true. While I had been separated from them before, I was not any longer. I had only felt that way because the loose bonds that they had already had with each other tightened quickly while they were still establishing any sort of connection at all with me.

I think I came closer to the truth, the reason for my knowledge, the second time around. I was from a different time. I was in a completely different mindset then them, in their time, where thoughts and feelings are suppressed instead of respected.

My knowledge was this: things ended. It was not something that people had ever liked to think about, but with the growing number of "Goths" and "emos" in my time, thoughts about ending and finality seemed to seep into the air like a subtle pollution. There was death, of course, the final finality, but there were other endings, too.

Take, for instance, this friendship.

We could only be together like this as long as the last one, It, lived. Because when (if?) we killed It, we killed something inside of ourselves at the same time.

I didn't know what to make of this realization, so I suppressed it. I still felt it inside of me, however, stewing and rotting my insides. I tried to contain it, and struggled with it for a few minutes until Beverly finally spoke up and drove it neatly away.

"We need a break, she said. "From fighting It, and from each other."

"Wh-What?" Bill asked.

"That's going to be kind of hard if we can't leave our clubhouse, Bev," Mike said.

"Well, we killed another one, right? So isn't the last one going to leave us alone for now?" Beverly said, shaking her head a little, as though clarifying it to us, and to her own mind, too.

"It will," Stan said, still drawing instinctively from some well of information inside of himself, still trusting everything he found there. "For a while, at least. It died during the night. We have today."

"You sh-sure, S-S-Stan?" Bill asked.

"Fairly certain," Stan replied.

"Do we need to throw someone out to test it?" Eddie asked, eying Richie.

"Eds gets off a good one!" Richie shouted. "Isn't he just…so…cute!"

"I don't think that's necessary," I said seriously to Eddie, as I quickly climbed up the ladder and out into the light.

I understood that this could have very easily turned into the same scenario it had last time, with Bill and I wasting a lot of time with pointless arguing. Stan said he was mostly sure, but I thought he was positive. But he wouldn't have said that, even though he was.

Bill had gone out last time, so here I was this time. And again, nothing had happened.

"It's safe," I called down.

"Wh-What'd you d-d-do that f-for?" Bill asked angrily. "You c-c-could've gotten y-yourself k-k-killed!"

"You did it last time, Bill," I told him. "It was my turn, anyways." Also, I would feel much better about my own death then any of theirs, especially if I had known that I could have changed that. But I couldn't say that without also speaking most of my thoughts about why I was here. And getting into that would just waste time, and I wasn't certain if they cared, anyways.

I watched the others as they climbed out of our fort: Bill, Eddie, Richie, Beverly, Ben, Stan, Mike.

"Bev's r-ruh-right," Bill said, thrusting his hands into his pockets. "We j-just need a b-b-break." He seemed on the verge of adding something on to that, and we watched him expectantly, but in the end, he just walked away, his hands still deep in his pockets.

With Bill gone, the circle quickly fell apart. They wandered away, one by one. No one was in pairs. Maybe, on some level, we really were tired of constantly being around each other.

I watched as Ben left. He was the last to leave, and I watched him go as I had watched the others go. I stared at the ground for a moment, as though lost in thought, but really just zoning out for a bit. Not the witchcraft-like hypnosis that I had been practicing before, but just a state with a few random thoughts, and really not much else.

I then left, following the others into the heart of Derry.


	29. 3,2

CHAPTER TWO

I navigated the streets at random, but I never really did feel lost. Although we were physically separated, we were all still connected on many levels, and I was still picking up some random thoughts from the others.

It might have been Eddie's sense of direction I was getting, or maybe just the others basic knowledge of the town, but I actually felt a practiced rhythm in my pace and walk. I found my way to downtown, and I realized that it was like Christmas with unlimited money. Since society as we knew it had collapsed, at least for the time, I decided that it was okay to just walk into the stores and take whatever I wanted.

I looked down Main Street for a long time, just standing in the middle of the road, the yellow line drawn between my feet. Far down, where the shops were just ending, I could see someone lying on the street. I walked out to the person, and marked it for what it was: a dead body. It was not any of the Losers, and I did not know who this was.

Her hair was thrown across her face, and her shirt, although mostly intact, was covered in blood, and it had spread on the ground, also staining her shorts, arms, and legs. Flies buzzed, busily feeding off of her flesh and blood. There was a horrible smell, and I fought the urge to puke.

(Andrea Fisher)

I had picked up a name, but it still didn't mean anything to me. And that's why it meant so much to me.

I was suddenly struck, for the umpteenth time, just how distant I was from them. They had probably all gone to school with

(Andrea)

this girl, and they might have known her, maybe been assigned to work with her or to share a book with her. I had never known her and I never would. It was just one more way that I could never be like _them_.

I did not see any more bodies, but every time I stepped outside of a shop, she was there, drawing my eyes to her and only her, and I would feel worse and worse each time.

By the time I stepped out of the jewelry store, wearing a lot more gold and silver jewelry then I could ever be able to afford (and most of which I would casually discard upon walking outside), I felt simply awful. My eyes returned, seemingly on their own accord, to the body of the girl I had never known.

A slow tear rolled down my cheek as I realized that I could never be like them.

Maybe this was the same self-deceptive depression that I had felt earlier, but my common sense was buried beneath a strong self-pity that made me furious.

I realized with a start that whatever connection I had with the others had been neatly severed. I could no longer feel any of their presence in my mind. I was, for the first time in a long time, completely alone.

I glanced nervously towards the sun, and marked the time to be around 2:00. I still had a few hours to try and find my way back on my own, or to re-establish a connection with them. But I felt disoriented now, and every time I tried to think, my eyes wandered back to Andrea's dead body.

I stood, swaying slightly with the sun beating down on me for God knows how long before Stan finally wandered along. I looked up and tried to shout out to him, but my voice locked down. I tried to send him a thought, but that, too, seemed to be locked, even more completely then my voice. My knees collapsed out from under me, and I guess he heard my landing on the concrete, because I saw him come running over, shouting something, before I passed out.


	30. 3,3

CHAPTER THREE

I faded in and out a few times, asking several times what was going on, but each time, I received no answer that I could remember.

"Something's wrong," I remember saying once. "Everyone needs to get inside. Something's wrong out there."

I cannot swear to you that I said this on the same day I passed out (although it must have been, as I had found out later), or if I did say it at all. I think I did, though, and I think I did only a few hours after. I was back at the clubhouse at this point. I don't remember whom I was speaking to, but I was worried at first that it was an unfamiliar face. First I was worried about Andrea, the dead girl, who had maybe walked down from Main Street to haunt me. But the fear changed into a new one, and my mind conjured up a boy's face that I was unfamiliar with.

After a long, lucid time that I could not have possibly estimated the length of, my delirious fever broke with a bang. I sat upright from the mattress that someone had unrolled for me. Everyone was there; the light that poured through the window was enough to tell me that. All the same, I counted them: Mike, Bill, Ben, Stan, Eddie, Beverly, Richie. I counted them again, a bit confused. They were crowded around me.

I realized that, for some reason, I still couldn't speak to them on a telepathic level. I felt alone and cut off from them.

"What's going on?" I asked, my voice sounding feeble and week.

"We don't know," Ben said quietly. "We thought you were sick, but you weren't running a temperature or showing any symptoms of any sicknesses."

"I think it was," I said unexpectedly. The words had risen, unbidden, to my lips, and were quickly followed by more, ideas that had only been half-formed and hidden from myself before. "It was some sickness of the mind. Something just happened. Something that's big. It's going to change everything."

"What are you talking about?" Richie asked, his Voices gone for now. "What's going on?"

His question was one that I wanted to ask myself, but I figured that I probably knew more then they did on the subject at the moment.

"I don't know," I replied shakily. "I can't talk through mind-speak anymore. Not like I was. I think I know why, but it's just out of my reach. I'm having trouble _thinking._"

"M-M-May I t-try to f-f-find it?" Bill asked, kneeling before me.

I smiled a little, wistfully, thinking about when I had first entered his mind, when I was the master, and he knew nothing about this. The first time: only a few days ago. And how quickly he had learned, how quickly they all had learned! It was like they had already been taught, and were just being reminded of something that they had learned long ago.

"Sure," I said to him. "Go ahead and try."

Almost immediately, I felt a light tickling in the back of my mind. I instinctively closed my mind off, and then smiled in recognition: this was the barrier that I had always felt entering their minds. I quickly tore it down and allowed Bill in.

I felt him rummaging around at first, and then there was nothing but Bill's blank eyes staring into mine. Suddenly, the blank look was wiped off as Bill backed out of my mind, returning to his own.

"B-Bowers," he said, his voice furious and scared, all rolled into one. "It's H-Henry Bowers. I d-d-don't know h-how It did th-th-this, b-but It's puh-pulled him back in."

"Henry Bowers?" Beverly asked. "Wasn't he in that crazyhouse outside of Derry?"

"Yes," Mike said. "Yes he was. But how's he gotten in? No one has gotten into or left Derry since It took over."

"I th-think It l-leh-het him in," Bill said. "S-Somehow, Sara c-could tell, b-but it c-completely w-w-wiped out her mind p-powers."

"Why couldn't you all tell?" I asked him. Bill seemed to have things all figured out. "Why me?"

Bill didn't say anything for a moment. I didn't understand why until he asked: "Eddie? C-C-Could you t-talk for muh-muh-me?" He had a lot to say; his stutter was stopping him from saying it.

"Sure Bill," Eddie replied without hesitation. He paused for a moment, as though listening, and then began to speak.

"There's one of two reasons why we couldn't tell," Eddie said, relaying to us the information that Bill was sending to him. I understood that I couldn't receive anymore then I could send out thoughts anymore. Whatever had happened had happened to me alone. And for now, I truly was cut off from them.

"I guess the first," Eddie continued, "is that you are stronger with this whole psychical thing then any of us. Maybe strong enough to receive things on frequencies that we can't reach yet."

It was a little creepy, watching Eddie talking, and Bill just sitting there, concentrating while staring avidly at the ground. Although I could no longer sense it, I could tell that Eddie may as well have had a marionette string bobbing his jaw up and down.

"My second guess is that Henry Bowers, like poison, will cause this to anyone who has advanced mentally as far as any of us have. However, the rest of us have a sort of immunity built up in us from being forced to spend a lot of time a couple of summers ago running away from him."

"How has that cut me off from my psychic level?" I asked, looking at Bill to ask the question, but to Eddie for his response.

"I think it would have to anyone," Eddie said after a slight pause. "But you're the only one who could tell. Maybe it's because you came in the same way."

"Well geez, Bill, what are we going to do about it?" Richie asked.

"We n-nuh-need to g-get ready f-for him," Bill said grimly, taking his voice back into his own mind. "Th-There isn't any p-police force, or any s-s-sort of authority. He's f-fucking dangerous."

"Then we can't go out anymore, can we?" I asked dismally. Not to get supplies or anything. Because even if It can't kill us if we're not afraid, this Bowers kid sure as hell can."

"He can get in here, too, can't he?" Beverly asked, scratching lightly at her bandages over her injured hand. "He can just barge right in. He knows where this is."

"This sucks," I complained as I stood up. "What's our situation, anyways?" This question gave way to a flood of questions that just seemed to keep coming. "Do we have any supplies? Can we still go outside today, providing that we don't see this Henry Bowers person? Does this clubhouse lock from the inside?" Although I still had many more things I wanted to ask, I held them back so that these may be answered.

"Yes, yes, and no," Richie answered. His voice was semi-serious, but also partially kidding around. I was glad that he was not using one of his Voices, though. While he seemed to have no problems with using them often and much, they made me uncomfortable somehow. "Plenty of food, Haystack here made sure of that."

"It's still the day after Its death," Stan said, one hand nervously tugging his ear. "How long did you think you were out?"

I shrugged my shoulders impatiently. "I'm just trying to get back on top of things. I'm not used to this…this…" I touched my head lightly, indicating my complete unease about being cut off from the mental spectrum that had once added a new dimension to the way I was seeing things.

Even if they had not been able to comprehend what I meant, they would have picked up my thoughts on it. I felt first queerly jealous of them, then an understanding that I depended on them now, more then ever.

'Remember, save yourself first, your friends next, and then the world,' the Turtle Maturin whispered in my head. It may have been just a hallucination or a vivid memory, but it really did feel like the first physic contact that I'd had since I'd passed out. The words, themselves, reminded me that somehow, for some reason, I was more important then any of them. The final choice…

"Sara!" Mike shouted. I started and looked up quickly.

"What?" I asked, annoyed. I felt like I had finally been getting somewhere.

"You had us worried," Eddie said, his eyes wide. "You were just zoning out."

"Sorry," I apologized, but my mind was elsewhere, trying to grasp what I had previously been thinking about. I felt like I had it for a second, but then it slipped away, and I was left with nothing.

"Sara, _are_ you okay?" Beverly asked, her face drawn and concerned.

"I'm fine," I said, letting go of my thoughts and focusing more fully into what I was doing. "But we need to be worrying about Henry Bowers now."

"Sh-She's r-r-right," Bill said. "We n-need to w-wuh-worry about g-getting a l-l-lock on this d-door."

"I know where there's a good lock, and a latch, also," Ben spoke up, "but it's too far to get there and back before nightfall."

My thoughts had cleared up, and I could use the logic that I so loved to use for situations like these. "Go with Bill," I said. "When night falls, have him hypnotize you, then he can hypnotize himself. Henry wont be out after night, since he can't see, right?"

"I've n-n-never hypnotized m-mys-helf," Bill said. "I d-don't nuh-know how."

"It's the same deal," I said. "Easier, in fact. It's like a closer reach."

Bill drew into himself for a minute, assessing the truth-value statement of my words, and then returned soon after. "Okay," he said. "I g-get it." He turned to Ben. "L-Let's g-g-go."

So Bill climbed the ladder, followed closely by Ben. I heard them talking, but they stayed close by for longer then they needed to.

"What are they doing out there?" Eddie asked curiously.

"I don't know," I said. I climbed the ladder and looked out, and saw them picking rocks off of the ground.

"They're getting rocks," I said to the others.

I realized that, while they had planned thoroughly for avoiding It if It came, they had taken no such precautions for if they happened to meet Henry. But, if Henry was crazy, _really_ crazy, then rocks may not be enough to dissuade him.

"You guys want a slingshot or something?" I asked them.

"I can go with them," Beverly said from below. I heard a light clatter as she picked something up, and after a moment, she stepped under me. I quickly climbed my way out, and she followed me up. In one hand, she held the slingshot, and in the other, she held one end of her bandages around her hand. She was unwrapping it.

"Slingshot would be nice," Ben said, answering my question. "So would hand-grenades and machine guns, but I'm not sure if even that's enough."

I smiled a wry half-smile and shrugged my shoulders.

"I'm afraid I can only offer you one of those," I said.

"I'll take the machine gun, then" Ben said with a smile.

"Don't you wish," I said.

"I think I can shoot," Beverly piped up. Her hand still had a nasty cut on it, running from her pinky finger straight across her palm. However, it was not bleeding or open, and it looked well on its way to healing.

Bill paused from his task of gathering rocks to take a look at Beverly's hand. He grasped it loosely in one of his hands.

"Ah-Are you s-s-sure that y-you want t-t-to risk r-reopening th-th-th-that?" he asked. Beverly nodded, wordlessly.

I felt a light unease then, some sort of intuition that was probably based on some deep, but groundless, fears. Whatever it was, it turned my stomach, and I moved away from them, towards the clubhouse. I climbed partially down the ladder, but before I was completely under:

"Good-bye," I said to the three, "And good luck."

"S-See yah," Bill said. The three turned and left, Bill and Ben carrying rocks, and Beverly's slingshot held loosely in her hand.


	31. 3,4

CHAPTER FOUR

I ducked under, into the clubhouse. Stan and Mike and Richie and Eddie were all inside, slumped against the wall, lost in their own thoughts. I was reminded forcibly of last night, when Mike and I had pulled briefly out of Bill's mind, and they had all been sitting similarly, looking dead to the world.

I felt the need to lift the silence, but had no idea how to do so. If I had been Richie, or even if I had still been connected to him…but I was not. I instead joined their silence, and sat down against the wall myself. I felt myself drifting off…into blackness. And then, I felt a click, and I felt a connection again.

I snapped back into reality in a hurry, happy to not be alone anymore. But happiness turned to confusion as I realized that I was still cut off from The Losers, and I still couldn't find their minds. I thought for a moment, and then turned inwards again, and found the connection. Then I traced it back to the source, like following a piece of rope. It stretched out for a long while, and it ended abruptly with a single person, not a group, as I had expected.

Whoever this was, they did not notice me. But this particular connection seemed limited, and I could do no more, for now, than see through their eyes.

This person wandered the streets of Derry without any rhyme or reason that I could distinguish. It was much the same way that I had navigated Derry before I had found Eddie to take me back. I wondered uneasily if this was someone I knew; my brother, perhaps, or one of my friends. Was it not plausible, or maybe even probable, considering the way that I had been yanked into Derry? I could easily enough imagine Catie finding a door downtown, or CJ finding one overlapping a door to his room. Or maybe Maturin had just picked up Justin or Alyssa and thrust them here.

It would even explain why it was easy enough to connect to them. I had never been able to connect to anyone like this, but I imagined that I would have easily to my friends had I been able to before.

Whoever's eyes I were looking at passed over the streets, and although my host did not glimpse Bill, Ben, and Beverly making their way up the streets, I did.

'Over there,' I said to my host. Whoever this was, he or she would need to be able to cope with voices in their heads. To my surprise, there was no disbelief, not even any surprise. It was as though they

(he)

had been waiting for me.

He looked up, and saw them.

'Talk to them,' I said. Whoever this was felt lost.

'I'm going to do a hell of a lot more then that,' my host responded back. The anger and bloodthirstiness of the reply startled me, woke some deadly intuition. He began to quietly close the distance between himself and them. I thought I knew who this was.

"Help me…" I mumbled aloud from my physical body, which felt hundreds of mile away from my mind. I still had most of my mind on who I believed was Henry Bowers, but I let some of my mind return to my physical body. "It's Henry…and he's after them."

"C'mon, guys," Richie said, and I felt him grabbing my right hand, and Eddie on my left. I knew Stan and Mike were also in the circle, on the opposite side.

"He needs to be stopped," I said dreamily. I drifted out of our circle almost fully into Henry's mind, and saw that Henry was now alarmingly close to the trio.

Although whatever more sophisticated connection I had with The Losers had been neatly severed when Henry came, there was still some sort of primal connection with them, one that I had not been aware of at all before. However, it was enough to send a hammerfist of energy through my connection into his mind. I felt the blow pass through me, and the sheer amount of power it took from all of us pulled me back, fully, for just a second, to my body, and I saw some energy, pure and blue, being forced out of us, probably taking more out of us then it should have. But then I was back, and I felt, like vibrations, as it hit him, efficiently knocking him out.

The blackness took his mind as he fell, and I quickly pulled out. I stuck for a moment, as though the unconsciousness was something sticky and difficult to pull away from, but I felt another rough surge of power around the small circle that the five of us had formed, and it was enough to snap me back.

I gasped compulsively several times, as though I had been drowning, and had been pulled out of the water in the nick of time. I suppose, in a way, I had been.

Eddie, without missing a beat, slid his hand into his pocket, pulled out his aspirator, put it between my lips, and triggered it. I started coughing, trying to rid myself of the taste.

"Eddie?" I said. "The hell'd you do that for?"

"Didn't know what else to do," he replied, and that got shaky laughs out of all of us.

"What was that?" Stan asked me after we had sobered up a bit. "What just happened?"

"I felt some sort of connection," I said. "It wasn't with you guys, but with someone else. I got into his mind, but I couldn't do much, because I haven't properly hypnotized him yet. I could see, though, and I actually saw Bill and Ben and Beverly, making their way downtown. I told him to go talk to them…"

"It was Henry, wasn't it?" Mike cut in. "That's who you were connected to."

"Yes," I said miserably. "He started to follow them, and I think he was about to kill them. But whatever we did knocked him out."

"Are you connected to him or is he connected to you?" Richie asked.

"Both, I think," I replied dubiously. I was starting to wonder if this was the beginning of some joke.

"Then can't he get through to you?"

My mind had been wandering slightly before, but it was brought back with a sudden crash as I saw the truth in his words.

"I…I guess he can," I sputtered, caught off my guard. I expected more probing questions, or maybe a lighthearted joke, but none came, and Richie nodded, and silenced.

"How are we going to get rid of him?" Eddie asked after a moment.

"I think we should wait until they get back," I said. "We really can't do much now."

"We just knocked him out, though, didn't we?" Mike pointed out. "If we'd been able to do that before, it could have changed a lot."

"He was caught off-guard," I said. "I think when he wakes up, he's going to know more about this. He's going to get it. This is an instinctual thing, and from what you guys have told me, Henry is all about instinct."

A few moments of silence followed this thought. No one disagreed, and I assumed that they agreed with me. Before, I could have easily picked up on how they felt, but now, I was left guessing.

"Can you contact Bill?" I asked Mike after another minute of silence pursued.

"How?" Mike asked. I didn't answer him, but just stared at him. He was always the best out of all of them, except for Bill. I knew that he could figure it out. When you started unlocking these powers, things came easier and easier.

'It's more a question of what you can't do then what you can,' I thought, because I knew that he was listening.

Mike sighed, and then said: "I'll try."

And indeed, he did try. I could tell how hard he was trying, and at some point while he was doing so, I felt the slow ebb of my powers returning. I was about to move in to help him in his struggle, but then I realized that, unfortunately, I was still inseparably connected to Henry. Re-connecting to the rest of the group, in any way, would be spreading my connection with Henry like a virus.

So I watched, helplessly, as Mike struggled. But the struggle ceased, and Mike had won. He was connected to Bill now in the front of his mind, where he could communicate with him.

I could now pick up on thoughts, and I did not have to worry about spreading anything amongst them. I could not send thoughts to them, however, for fear of bringing them down with me.

'Bill,' Mike said.

'Mike?' Bill responded. 'What's going on? Everything okay back there?'

'No,' Mike said. 'Nothing is right. It's Henry.'

Eddie, Richie, and Stan had all leaned forwards slightly, listening in, as I was, to their talk.

'What happened? Did he find you?'

'He just about found you, Big Bill,' Richie broke in.

'He…he was after us?' Bill asked.

'Yes,' Mike said. 'He almost had you, too. But Sara broke in, and we helped her knock him out.'

'So she's back in the game?'

'Well, not exactly.'

'Could you please just tell me what's going on?'

So Mike outlined what had just happened to Bill. I cut off my powers, and watched, amused, as the others sat and stared, with a blank look, sometimes moving their lips as they spoke in their minds, sometimes whispering. I watched their reactions to voices that I couldn't here. It was a sort of variation of what I used to do on the bus: turn up my CD player all the way, and watch other's lips move as they spoke.

Stan suddenly fell back into reality, and I watched eyes light up as their focus shifted from inwards to outwards.

"Bill was trying to ask you a question," Stan said, "but he couldn't find you."

"I can't answer him back," I said. "I'm connected to Henry, and if I try to project, then the connection is going to spread."

"You don't know that," Stan said. "Do you?"

"I can guess," I said. "And I've been able to tell these sort of things before, and I'm fairly sure that I'm right."

"Alright."

"Could you go back and tell them that?" I asked him.

"Sure," he said. "Sure, why not?" He lightly touched his temples with his fingertips before returning to whatever connection that Mike had established. After a moment's thought, I followed him, as a silent visitor.

'She can't talk in this mind-speak,' Stan explained. 'She's worried about spreading whatever connection she has with Henry around.'

'What do you mean?' Beverly asked.

Stan explained, but as I was listening, I was yanked out of the connection, as though caught with a fishhook. I realized with dismay that it was Henry; he had woken up.

He was walking his way along our connection like pulling his way up a rope: brute, clumsily, and obvious. I tried to hold him at bay, and closed my eyes, determined not to let him know anything about me, or where I was.

'So who the hell are you, anyways?' he asked. His voice in my mind was repulsive, but the strength behind it was overpowering my judgment. I almost told him, but caught myself before I did.

'Where is this?' he demanded. I reached out one hand, and was horrified to find that Henry was trying to stop me from lifting it. I powered through, however, and shook Eddie's arm. I felt him stir awake, back into reality.

"Don't talk," told him, still desperately fighting Henry back. "It's Henry. He's trying…to take over…" I kept my eyes covered. I heard Eddie's breathing becoming shorter and more labored, and I quickly covered my ears while squeezing my eyes shut. If Henry found where were now, then we would die. And although Henry wasn't exactly the brightest bulb in the bunch, he could tell what asthma was when he heard it. And who had the worst case of asthma in town? And just where might he hang out?

I faintly heard him triggering off his aspirator, and then…nothing. I thought frantically what he may be doing, and then hoped that he was off with the others, getting help, perhaps.

'So where is this rathole, anyways?' Henry asked me again. It took power out of me to concentrate on his words, and I think he knew that, because he kept on talking, continued asking questions. 'Who are you? Who was that you were talking to?'

'Back off!' I shouted back at him, trying to hold him at bay. But in that brief lapse of time while I was talking, he moved in. He had somehow found almost complete control over my body. In a last-ditch attempt to hide my location, I moved my eyesight to Henry's body. He was out in the sunlight, and he was now slumped against a building. The sun was rapidly setting, but the way Henry was facing, he was gazing almost directly at it. I shifted his vision slightly towards it, and somewhere far away, back at the clubhouse, where it was already difficult to see in the failing light, I felt my eye's pupils constricting. My blue eyes would not adjust again that night, not unless another light was flipped on.

'Are you in a fucking cave or something?' he asked.

'Sewers,' I sent back to him, the lie surfacing easily from my mind, although sounding extremely shaky and weary. 'I've been lost for days now-'

In a single, swift motion, Henry threw himself backwards into his own mind again, and threw me back into my own mind, and sealed off our connection.

'It's going to be back,' I thought, and no one was listening. 'He can come back whenever he wants. He can and will come back at any time.'

I opened my eyes, and realized that I still could not see. I glanced at the window, and saw that there was only a sliver of light left. It would be gone in a few minutes.

"You guys there?" I asked aloud.

"Yah," Mike replied. "Are you?"

"He's gone for now," I said. "But he'll be back."

"How are you going to get rid of him?" Eddie asked for the second time that night.

"Where's Bill?" I asked.

"He's on his way back," Richie replied. "He'll be here in around 15 minutes. Along with Ben and Beverly, but hey! Who cares about them?"

"Beep-beep, Ri-" Stan began.

"Don't say it!" Richie cut in sharply, holding up both of his hands in a universal defeated gesture. "I'll be good," he added, as a second thought.

There was mostly silence after that, as we all waited for Bill, Ben, and Beverly to get back. But I was also tense and ready, anticipating Henry to come back and strike again. I jumped when there was a sudden flood of light, but that was only Stan lighting one of the lanterns they had down here.

When the door unexpectedly flew open, I jumped up, and grabbed quickly for a hammer from the tool kit Ben had brought down previously. I drew it back, and waited for Henry to come down.

"I was starting to think they'd never come back," Richie said. I didn't understand him, but then I saw Bill's sneakers as he climbed down the ladder. I quickly set back the hammer. I mentally chastised myself for being so paranoid that I would make assumptions about anything, especially something like this. I had been about ready to attack Bill, our fearless leader, with a hammer.

Once the three were down, they stood in a daze, each of them hypnotized to protect themselves from It; the last one alive. Ben held a paper bag, and there were clinking sounds inside. He dropped it on the floor once he was down.

"Richie, snap them out of it," I directed.

"Why me?" he asked, bewildered.

"You could use the practice," I said, shrugging.

"Alright," he said. He walked up to Bill, looked back once over his shoulder to me, then back at Bill. There was a moment of silence, and then Bill shouted and threw himself backwards, away from Richie.

"Awe, c'mon, Bill," Richie protested, "I'm not that ugly."

"N-Not something I wuh-wuh-want to wake up t-t-to," Bill said, and faked a shudder. The rest of us laughed while Richie pretended to be deeply offended.

"Let's p-pull these t-two out," Bill said, gesturing to Beverly and Ben. Richie looked them over, and settled his gaze on Beverly's relaxed face before Bill stepped in front of her to pull her out. Richie looked momentarily disappointed, but moved amiably enough to Ben.

Beverly was out in a snap, and Ben followed her a moment later.

"Got a headache," Beverly said, cradling her head in her hands.

Ben nodded, agreeing, lightly touching his own head.

"Th-That's n-nuh-normal," Bill said. "Y-You were both under f-f-for a long t-time."

"Yes," Ben said. "I'm going to get this lock on."

An uneasy silence followed as Ben methodically set the latch up, and prepared to screw it in. In the silence, I felt my face grow hot, and I knew that I was blushing. Bill was going to say something, and it would be about Henry, or to put it a different way, "My Little Problem."

"N-No," Bill said to me out loud, "Th-This is one h-hell of a p-p-problem."

My blush deepened. Apparently, Bill was still able to pick up on my thoughts. And apparently, although I was not connected to them except for on the most basic level, they were still every bit connected to me.

"You talking about Henry, Big Bill?" Mike asked.

"Y-Yes," Bill said. "W-We need to g-get rid of him." He turned to me. "What h-h-happened while I w-was gone?"

I could not find the words to describe what had happened (although I have now, years and years later, found words to describe this in the best way I can). Instead of attempting to communicate, I sent thoughts out to him. He might not have picked them up, but in a strange way, it was exactly what he was expecting.

"The sewers," Stan said grimly, after I had finished broadcasting my piece for all of them. "That's where it all leads back to, isn't it?"

"Are we going back down there, Bill?" Eddie asked.

"I th-think so," Bill replied.

"Let's worry about today," Beverly said. "Whatever happens next, well, that will take care of itself."

"Today don't look so hot, either," Mike said glumly.

None of us really had anything to say to that.

"I'm turning in," I said quietly. The others nodded, and they, too, unrolled their sleeping bags, and we fell asleep one by one. All of us except for Ben, who continued to work quietly. After a while, he gave a satisfied sigh, and I heard the lock click shut as it locked.

I imagined watching from outside as the lights from each house went out as each of them fell asleep. It was something I had been able to sense before, but I could no longer. I felt blind and helpless, and I had only just decided that I could take it no longer when I finally fell asleep.

time. Henry, however, who had never been here, blundered stupidly on for a moment before turning to face me again.

"I'm going to kill you," he said slowly and deliberately. "And anyone who's around you at the time can be considered dead, too."

I considered casting out for Bill, calling him out here to help me out, but decided against it. I had the advantage out here, and I could wake myself up if I needed to. Invoking Bill would only let Henry know who we were and where we were.

Henry charged again. He was clumsy, but it was so unexpected that I was quite taken by surprise. I stepped back awkwardly, and I woke myself up on instinct.

I sat up in reality, gasping. Whatever had happened, it had been close. Too fucking close for comfort.

'So this is where you are,' Henry whispered dangerously in my mind. He came forwards in my mind, taking over my body. He looked around, and cocked my (his?) head, listening like an animal. He stood up and glanced around. It was too dark to see the faces of my friends, but it was not dark enough to conceal their sleeping shapes scattered around on the floor. He reached for my pocket, instinctively grabbing for a switchblade that was not there. He cast his eyes around the clubhouse for something else that he could use to kill.

The shock had somewhat worn off, and I could think fairly clearly now. I thought frantically of what to do, and decided to throw caution to the wind by trying for contact. I would still be spreading Henry's and my connection, but it wouldn't do any of them much good to be clean if they were dead. I cast out for Bill. I found him, but he was not in his own mind. I didn't understand, and realized just as Henry had spotted a hammer (the same one I had originally intended for killing him) that he was probably out somewhere, probably in the macroverse; maybe a different location then where I had been.

I cast out again, this time for Mike. He had always been talented in his mental skills, but when I found him, his sleep was far to deep to rouse him. He seemed nearly cationic. I thought frantically who I would need to find next, and cast out randomly until I found someone who was nearly awake, just entering or leaving sleep.

'Wake up!' I shouted frantically into their mind. 'Wake up he's going to kill someone!'

Richie sat up like a shot from behind me, and Henry whirled around. Had the angle been different, Henry would have immediately recognized him, but as it was, Richie had his back to the window, casting his face in shadow.

'It's not me, it's him,' I explained to Richie. 'Help me!'

Richie, moving instinctively with his mind instead of his hands, helped me to fight him off.


	32. 3,5

CHAPTER FIVE

At first, I dreamed. They were normal, and the night was normal. It was, in a way, an escape from the awful reality that I had been forced into. But after a while, the dreams faded, and I was out again, out into the macroverse.

I looked around. Although I did not feel so, I appeared to be alone. I almost cried out to Bill, who had probably brought me here, but some dark instinct held my tongue. I didn't know why, but I wondered just how well Ben had installed the lock last night when he was still so tired.

Then there was a brief flash; a slight movement. I whipped around, and saw a strange boy standing there. I say strange, but in a way, he was not. He was familiar, because I knew beyond a shadow of doubt that this was Henry Bowers; the one who I had a deep but unwilling connection with.

We stared at each other in silence, each of us sizing the other up.

"Who are you?" he demanded. I did not answer, only watching him. I was fairly certain that he knew who I was. At the least, he knew my mind well enough, and that was all he really needed to know.

"Where are you?" he demanded again. "You and your asshole friends, who are they?"

I regarded him in silence. I was glad to see that he did not know the answer to either of the questions. And the longer I kept my silence, the more power I would appear to hold.

"I know that I can get into your mind," Henry said, practically seething. "I can, and I will. And when I do, you'll wish you'd never invaded mine."

I said nothing.

"Answer me, dammit!" he shouted. He ran towards me, but I slid away, moving with a grace that could only be obtained from entering the macroverse for the umpteenth time. Henry, however, who had never been here, blundered stupidly on for a moment before turning to face me again.

"I'm going to kill you," he said slowly and deliberately. "And anyone who's around you at the time can be considered dead, too."

I considered casting out for Bill, calling him out here to help me out, but decided against it. I had the advantage out here, and I could wake myself up if I needed to. Invoking Bill would only let Henry know who we were and where we were.

Henry charged again. He was clumsy, but it was so unexpected that I was quite taken by surprise. I stepped back awkwardly, and I woke myself up on instinct.

I sat up in reality, gasping. Whatever had happened, it had been close. Too fucking close for comfort.

'So this is where you are,' Henry whispered dangerously in my mind. He came forwards in my mind, taking over my body. He looked around, and cocked my (his?) head, listening like an animal. He stood up and glanced around. It was too dark to see the faces of my friends, but it was not dark enough to conceal their sleeping shapes scattered around on the floor. He reached for my pocket, instinctively grabbing for a switchblade that was not there. He cast his eyes around the clubhouse for something else that he could use to kill.

The shock had somewhat worn off, and I could think fairly clearly now. I thought frantically of what to do, and decided to throw caution to the wind by trying for contact. I would still be spreading Henry's and my connection, but it wouldn't do any of them much good to be clean if they were dead. I cast out for Bill. I found him, but he was not in his own mind. I didn't understand, and realized just as Henry had spotted a hammer (the same one I had originally intended for killing him) that he was probably out somewhere, probably in the macroverse; maybe a different location then where I had been.

I cast out again, this time for Mike. He had always been talented in his mental skills, but when I found him, his sleep was far to deep to rouse him. He seemed nearly cationic. I thought frantically who I would need to find next, and cast out randomly until I found someone who was nearly awake, just entering or leaving sleep.

'Wake up!' I shouted frantically into their mind. 'Wake up he's going to kill someone!'

Richie sat up like a shot from behind me, and Henry whirled around. Had the angle been different, Henry would have immediately recognized him, but as it was, Richie had his back to the window, casting his face in shadow.

'It's not me, it's him,' I explained to Richie. 'Help me!'

Richie, moving instinctively with his mind instead of his hands, helped me to fight him off.

Henry, at first, continued to walk, although he started to resemble someone who might be trying to wade through pudding. Eventually, he stopped altogether, and moved his fight from my body to his mind. I left Richie for just a second to take control long enough to drop the hammer. It was quick, but risky. It reminded me of the game my brother had showed me once: throw a basketball into the air, turn around once, and try to catch it. But in this case, it would be like throwing a bomb in the air and trying to catch it. I got back before Henry could lock Richie out, but it was a close thing.

Richie and I continued struggling to fight Henry off, but even that did not seem enough. Sweat started to run down the side of my face as Henry and I fought for control. And right when I though that I was loosing it, that Richie and I would both loose soon, I felt something heavy hit the back of my head, and I saw a brilliant flash of light before I passed out.


	33. 3,6

CHAPTER SIX

I awoke with my head throbbing, but did not stir. Although I had only been knocked out a few times, it was a habit to not move on awakening. I realized how ridiculous this was after a moment, and opened my eyes and sat up.

The guys were all on the others side of the clubhouse, crowded around Richie, who I could barely see through them. Stan shifted a little, and then Richie was completely blocked from my view. Beverly, however, sat next to me. She had probably been watching the others, but she quickly shifted her gaze to me when she heard me sit up.

"Are you okay?" she asked nervously. "I didn't mean to hit you that hard, but-"

"It's okay," I said, cutting her off. My head gave another vicious throb in the back, and I reached back to where Beverly had hit me. My fingers inspected the damage, taking note of the swollen bump and the flakes of dried blood. There wasn't a whole lot, but enough to be of concern.

"Damn, Bev, you've got one hell of a hit," I said, smiling slightly. She smiled, too, but it really seemed to be more of a grimace.

"What's going on with Richie?" I asked. "What happened to him?"

"He passed out when you did," she said. "We figured that he was connected to you at the time."

"You figured correctly."

"Bill and Mike have both tried to find him, with no luck."

"I think I'm going to give it a shot."

"You sure that's a good idea?" she asked, looking back over to the boys.

"Well sure," I said, honestly confused. "Why shouldn't I? I'm worried about him. I'm just trying to help."

"It's not Richie, it's that cretin Henry I'm worried about."

"If it is Henry, then I'm pretty sure that he's at least as worn out as I am. I should be fine, at least for a little while."

"Just don't spend too long there?"

"Sure. I'll be back soon."

She nodded worriedly, but didn't say any more. So I lay back on the sleeping bag I had been sleeping on, wincing slightly as my wound touched the pillow, and closed my eyes. I found a massive amount of psychic energy locked away, every bit as much as there had been before. I could tap into it, as I had before, but I still couldn't use it for anyone else except for Richie. I figured that he had already been infected with Henry, and anything else I did couldn't hurt.

I suddenly found myself standing next to myself. I was a mental entity standing next to my physical body.

'What the hell?' I asked, using my mouth to talk, but it sounded like mind speak.

Beverly watched my physical body, but obviously could not see me as I was now. I looked around, and then took a tentative step towards Richie. I found that walking was just as it had been, and took a few more confident strides. I hit my foot on the lantern, but I only passed through it.

'This is fucking weird,' I said. I was standing next to the others.

"Wh-What'd you s-s-say?" Bill asked Eddie.

"I didn't say anything," Eddie said.

"Nuh-Never mind," Bill replied, and looked back at Richie.

I wondered briefly if he had just heard me, but decided to experiment with this later. I was here for Richie, who was lying on a sleeping bag, also, staring vacantly towards the roof.

I leaned next to him, an unseen visitor, and put my hand through his head. I saw it go in, and then I was sucked in, too. I found myself instantly in his mind.

There was a moment of extreme vertigo, and I couldn't think or move for a moment. It gradually passed, but when I looked up, I didn't know where I was. In Richie's mind, sure, but beyond that, I was lost. I'd been here before, a couple of times, but this time, it was different. I didn't understand why for a moment (it didn't help that my mind was still waking from its dizzy stupor), but then realized that it wasn't just his mind anymore. I felt Henry here, too. His presence was faint, but it changed things a lot. I could tell, just by being there, that Henry was not there, but Richie wasn't, either.

I snapped out of Richie's mind, but I did not go back to the ghost thing I had been before, but I returned directly to my own mind. From there, without even bothering to open my eyes, I traced back the connection I had with Henry. I tried to find his mind, tried to see if I could find Richie there, perhaps.

I found the connection easily enough, but it was closed off somehow. I tried to trace it back, but it was like following a strand of razor barbwire in the dark.

'God damn it,' I said, the placidity of my voice surprising myself. I calmly put up every shield I could muster up, and followed the strand, trying to ignore the sharp pinpricks, and the illusion of blood flow.

Finally, finally, I was in. I was surprised to find that there was no mental shield to weave around. Henry was extremely talented at this, frighteningly so, and would not have left himself defenseless.

It was like in those old movies, where the star declared that things were quiet…too quiet.

Henry's mind was lucid, but there was violence and rage in hidden pockets everywhere. I understood that if I stayed here for long, then I might go crazy.

'Richie?' I called out tentatively. I felt like I was poking around in a lions cave.

There was a moment of silence, but then I heard him.

'I'm over here,' Richie said. I snapped my head around wildly, but couldn't find him.

'Richie?' I asked.

'Henry left just now. I couldn't fight him.'

I didn't say anything as panic flooded through me. If Henry wasn't here, then there was one of two places that he could be going to: Richie or me. Either way would only end in catastrophe.

I realized that I had to get back, now. I considered grabbing Richie and bringing him back with me, but grimly realized that there wasn't any time for that. There wasn't even time for second thoughts.

I followed that barbed wire thread back to my own mind, wincing at the pain as I hobbled along, feeling crippled and weak. I had been able to leap from the "Loser's" minds with ease, but being in Henry's was like jumping into quicksand.

When I found my way back to my mind at last, I kept quiet in the back of my mind; in the equivalency of having my eyes squeezed shut. I forced myself to look, to check and see if Henry was there.

He was.

But I realized as my heart sped up to a suicidal rate that he wasn't here at all. I had expected him so much that my mind had conjured up a frighteningly vivid picture of it being so.

'Then he's in Richie's head,' that voice that was almost mine but not quite spoke up. 'You need to get him out, and now.'

'But-'

'NOW!'

I quickly lunged for Richie's mind again, but even as I got there, I realized that it was too late. I could only find the faintest wisp of Richie's persona, because it was mostly Henry there.

I snapped back to my own mind as quickly as I could and stood up in one motion, nearly knocking Beverly off of the stool she was sitting on.

At the same time, Richie was rising from his slumber.

"Richie!" Eddie said happily, blithely oblivious that Richie was off somewhere else, locked up in Henry's mind.

"N-N-No," Bill said, taking a step back. "Th-Th-That's n-nuh-"

"Kill you all," Henry whispered bloodthirstily. Although he said it through Richie's lips, speaking with Richie's voice, we could all here him as an undertone to Richie's voice. Henry cast his eyes around, undoubtedly looking for a weapon.

"Richie," Stan said, his face showing hurt and confusion.

"I think you're thinking of someone else," Henry said coolly. I saw that he was about to attack, and I quickly clawed through my mind, looking for an edge over him.

'It's still Richie's mind, even though Henry's there' was the first thought that surfaced to the top of my mind. This thought lead to an idea; a potentially life-saving one.

Henry lunged forwards, aiming his attack at Bill first.

"Beep-beep Richie!" I shouted quickly. Henry was immediately thrown to the floor, as though he had tripped. I suppose that that's what he must have figured, because he got back on his feet in a flash and lunged forwards again.

"Beep-beep Richie," Beverly spoke up. Henry was, again, thrown to the ground. And then we were all doing it, crowding around Richie's body, forcing him down, not giving him a chance to get up.

"Okay, okay already," he finally spoke up when we lapsed for a second after nearly a minute. "He's gone. You can stop now."

"M-Make sure of th-that," Bill said to me. "Ch-Ch-Check his m-mind."

"Roger that, Big Bill," I said.

I only needed a brief moment to check, it was easy to see that Henry was gone, save for the point in Richie's mind that he was still connected to Henry.

"Yes," I said aloud. "He's gone."

"For good?" Stan asked.

"Kinda doubt that," Mike said grimly. "Creeps like that are never gone."

"He'll be back," I said.

"We need to get rid of him for good," Ben said. "We can't just keep driving him back."

"How are we going to do that?" Eddie asked.

No one answered his question, and one by one, out gazes shifted towards Bill. He seemed not to notice, or maybe he was pointedly ignoring our hopeful looks. He looked deep in concentration.

His concentration was so great that it was nearly audible. I could hear his thoughts in my own, so I reluctantly closed down my powers. I couldn't risk infecting him out of simple curiosity.

"We n-need to storm h-him out," Bill said, his eyes alight with his inner fire that I had not seen in a while.

"That's pretty brutal," I said quietly. I could only imagine what it might be like to be caught in something like that. I figured it must be something like being caught in a hurricane. There was no way to predict the consequences of something like that; something this major.

"It d-d-doesn't matter," Bill said coldly. "He's ah-always in our way, geh-hetting in our b-business. If he's n-n-not stopped s-soon, he's j-just going to c-c-continue to s-slow us down."

I nodded. In a strange way, I felt sorry for Henry. I didn't realize it until later, but it was probably because I had been constantly connected to him, had been in his mind, and he had been in mind. We shared an unwilling yet decently strong bond.

On the other hand, I had no connections with 'The Losers' outside of the normal, everyday sort: speech and other communications of the sort. I found myself, in a strange way, torn.

I looked up, as though searching for an answer. My eyes immediately fell over Richie, who had been possessed and nearly made to kill his friends. My resolve immediately strengthened, and I was horrified that I could have even considered turning away from my friends to Henry.

"We'll all h-hook up at wuh-once," Bill said, outlining his plan. "And we all ch-charge."

"Nice and simple," Richie commented. "I like it."

"And if something goes wrong?" Stan asked.

"Hope it d-doesn't," Bill said, implying that this well thought-out plan was really just something off of the top of his head.

"Then we improvise," Ben said with a casual shrug. Surprisingly enough, he didn't seem to be the least bit worried.

"We doin' it now?" Mike asked.

Bill nodded. "We s-start n-nuh-now."

I felt the energy transfer start as we all formed a circle. Then, like a circle drawn in lines of fire, it passed down the line; Bill passed it on to Beverly, where it went to Mike, then Stan, then Eddie, Ben, Richie, and me. I passed it back to Bill, and now there was a definite circle drawn around us.

'Let's go,' Bill said to us, and it was great to have him back in my head. I wouldn't have believed at any other point in my life that it could be this good to have someone in my mind like this, but really, there wasn't much else I would have wanted now.

The connection to Henry, which originally belonged to Richie and me, was now spread apart in the circle. We all found it and traced it back, the others working instinctively how to do it.

I reflected back to a few days ago, showing Bill how to do this. I hadn't thought, at first, that it was possible. But it had been, for him and for the others, and they had shown a potential that I would not have believed in any other human being.

I was hoping that Henry would be relaxed or even (if good fortune was really on our sides) asleep. However, there was no such luck. Henry seemed to be fully awake, even waiting for us.

There was a struggle, and I can tell you that there was one hell of a fight (albeit one that lasted only seconds). However, Henry really wasn't a match for us. He had a knack for this, but he had little practice, and he had the disadvantage of there being eight of us, and only one of him.

Maybe he knew that he wouldn't last long, and God knew what would happen when he lost, so he immediately focused on only one of us, singling out just one.

The one was Eddie.

Whatever he did was brief and confused, and the rest of us (except for Eddie) crashed over him like a tidal wave a half-second later.

There was a bending, and then a light snap as something important broke, and Henry Bowers was driven completely insane.

I immediately sensed the danger of being in the mind of the insane, and called to the others:

'We have to go. Now!'

'Right. Back out, all of you!' Came Bill's voice to all of us.

'It's sealing off,' Ben said. His voice was calm on the surface, but there was a bubbling fear hidden beneath.

'What's…' Stan started, but never finished his question. He realized, at around the same time all of us did, that the entrance to Henry's mind was closing. If we were still on this side when it was closed…

'Run!' Bill shouted. Confused, I was about to point out that we were entities of mind; that we could not run. However, I didn't say anything, and counted the others as they ran out.

Five. There were five.

And then there was me.

I cast around for the other two, and found Eddie and Richie together, somehow imbedded deeper in Henry's mind then they had been during the charge and attack.

I metaphorically ran through the corridors of Henry's mind to find them.

'Help me out here!' Richie shouted to me as soon as he could sense my presence. 'He just froze up, and he's not responding to anything.'

Eddie stood in a daze, swaying slightly back and forth. His eyes were dull and unfocused, and there didn't seem to be a life-spark in them at all.

'That bastard Henry did this,' I said furiously. 'I'm going to kill that son-of-a-bitch.'

'That don't matter much,' Richie said. 'We need to get him out now.'

'Okay,' I said. We picked Eddie up and carried him to the exit. Had this been the physical world, Richie would have been much stronger then me, stronger by a long shot. However, it was not the physical world, and I carried Eddie with ease while Richie struggled.

'The door…' Richie said, sounding out-of-breath. It had been shutting slowly, and was now nearly shut.

'Go get it,' I said quickly. 'Hold it open.'

Richie nodded, but did nothing.

'Come on!' I shouted. 'We don't have much time!'

'Okay, okay.' He ran up to it and caught both sides with his hands. He attempted to pry them apart. They slowed, but he couldn't stop them from slowly moving together.

I tore my eyes away from the scene and focused on getting Eddie out. The absence of Richie's help made the task much more difficult then it had previously been.

I dragged Eddie along, and the door's sides got closer and closer.

'I hate tah pressure yah,' Richie grunted, straining under the pressure, 'but I think you've only got a couple of more seconds.'

'I…can't,' I said, completely defeated. I watched helplessly as the doors moved together, sealing shut.


	34. 3,7

CHAPTER SEVEN

'I…can't,' I said, completely defeated. I watched helplessly as the doors moved together, sealing shut.

'Now what kind of attitude is that?' piped up the voice of Bill Denbrough. I watched as a set of hands appeared from the other side of the door, deftly prying them apart.

While Richie may have been weak on this level of mind, Bill, most certainly, was not.

'You didn't think we'd ditched you, did you?' Beverly asked from somewhere behind Bill. She sounded as though honestly curious, or maybe just amused.

'Um, yah, that's pretty much it,' Richie said.

Bill sat down, set his back against one side of the door, and his legs against the other, holding them apart. Beverly jumped over his legs, into the room.

'So could you tell us exactly what was holding you all up?' She asked.

'It's Eddie,' I said. I glanced at him, and saw, now, the same vacant gaze I had seen the first day I had met him.

'Oh, Eddie,' Bill said, standing up and walking to him, leaving Richie to grab frantically for the door. 'How do you get yourself into these messes?'

'Uh, Bill…' Richie said, straining to hold the door open. He actually seemed to have it, although he was struggling. Had he not had a good hold of it, then we would have moved in to help, but as it was, for now, we just left him standing there.

'I think he'll be okay,' I said to Bill. 'He's going to have some trouble with these weird mind-powers after, but I think he'll be okay when he's back in his own mind.

'A little help here please?' Richie pleaded.

'Then we should get him out as soon as we can,' Beverly said.

'Bill, dammit, get your ass over here and help me!' Richie said. Bill half-smiled, and walked over, pried the door open again, and propped it open with his legs again, as he had before. Richie fell over backwards and lay on the ground, hyperventilating.

'Well…it's about…damn time.' Richie panted.

'Help me out here?' I asked Beverly. She nodded, and walked to Eddie and I, and helped me to move him. She, like Richie, was not much in words of strength, but it was certainly enough to help lighten the load.

'Thanks,' I said.

'You sure he'll be alright?' she asked nervously as we stepped out of Henry's mind.

'God I hope so,' I said nervously. I let Eddie go, and he snapped back to his mind quickly. I let go of whatever rope was chaining myself to this place, too, and snapped back. I felt Beverly following close behind me.

I awoke at once, but left my eyes closed, pretending to be unconscious still. I wished I were. I didn't want to have to check to see if Eddie was okay, and I didn't want to face any sort of responsibility now.

"Sara?" Beverly asked.

I was faced with a quick decision: lie to them and give in to my impulses, or just sit up and face reality. I chose the latter, but grudgingly.

"I'm here."

"What happened to you?" Ben asked.

"It's Eddie…" I started.

"Eddie!" Beverly said, as though jerking awake from a dream. She turned to Eddie, and leaned over his still form.

"Oh shoot, I'm no good at this," she said. "Sara, could you…?"

I glanced once over at Richie and Bill, neither who had yet awakened.

"Sure," I said. Maybe they were just slow getting back.

I quickly, almost nonchalantly checked Eddie's mind, and saw where he was as though confirming a suspicion: dreaming.

"He's just asleep," I said to the others after I was in my own mind again. "He's alright. I'm not sure about these two, though," I said, gesturing towards Bill and Richie.

"Maybe they're just slow getting back?" Mike said.

"Neither of them were out when we left," Beverly said nervously. "But Bill seemed to have had it under control."

There were a few uncomfortable moments where we waited and watched them, and I considered if I should go in after them. However, Bill suddenly sat up, and Richie's eyes fluttered as he woke from his slumber.

"Well it's about time," Stan commented.

"What took you?" I asked them.

"Bill had this whacked-out idea to go back in and kill him," Richie explained.

"It w-was a g-guh-good idea," Bill protested. "If we c-could've g-gotten him out of our wuh-way-"

"That _wasn't_ the time, Bill," Richie said.

"Wait, what were you going to do?" Ben asked.

"G-Go back in and k-kill him," Bill said.

"We already drove him crazy," I pointed out. "I don't think he's going to be any trouble to us."

"H-How's Eh-Eh-Eddie?" Bill asked, abruptly changing the subject, whether out of concern for his friend or for his own role, I never knew.

"He's alright," I replied. "He's sleeping now."

"You sure that he's just asleep?" Richie asked gravely.

"Yes," I said. "I checked his mind. He's okay."

"Th-That's good," Bill said. "He n-nuh-needs to be ready. We need t-t-to go f-find the lah-hast one, and s-soon."

"When?" Stan asked cautiously from the back of the clubhouse.

"T-Today," he said after glancing up once at the window. It was light out. I had thought that I had only slept minutes before Henry had awoken me, but apparently, it had been a standard night. "After he wuh-wakes up, and ah-after we g-g-get supplies."

"What time is it?" I asked suddenly. I was suddenly felt lost in time; dizzy and vulnerable.

'It's 10:09,' I thought to myself. 'I'm going to wake up and find my arrow or maybe I'll leave it and then I'm going to walk back to my house and just stay in my room for a while-'

"It's 12:07," Stan said, glancing down at his watch.

I snapped back, suddenly and completely.

'What the hell was _that_?' I thought to myself.

'What just happened?' Mike asked me in my mind.

'I don't know,' I replied. 'But when Bill started scheduling out today…'

'You didn't like my schedule?' Bill asked, having somehow found his way into our conversation.

'No, it was fine, but-'

'You dissin' Big Bill?' Richie asked conversationally.

'No, it's just-'

'What are you all doing here?' Ben asked.

'Anyone else going to interrupt me?' I asked.

'Yes,' Beverly said.

'Is Stan here?' I asked, seeing if I needed to talk aloud, or if everyone was here.

'No,' Stan said, a rare attempt at humor.

'Well dammit to hell, could you go get him?' Richie asked.

'Seriously, Sara, what did just happen?' Mike asked.

'Something happened?' Ben asked.

'Yes,' I said. 'When Bill began to talk about today, I felt kinda…dislocated. Like I would snap back to my own time at any second. To 2006.'

'Are you going to?' Beverly asked nervously. 'Do you still feel like you are?'

'No,' I said. 'When I got the time, I was okay.'

'I think we need to hurry,' Bill said. 'It seems that time is working against us.'

"What do you mean it's working against us?" I asked aloud, bringing the conversation into the physical world. "It folded back on itself just so that I could get here."

"Th-That w-w-was then," he replied simply.

"We can't go down just yet, anyways," Beverly said.

"Well sure, we need to wait for Eddie to wake up," Mike said.

"No. Well, actually, yes, but there is something else. But Sara and I still need to shoot, see who's better." Her eyes flicked over to my unstrung bow, propped up against the corner. She seemed eager to try it out.

"A shoot-out," Richie said. "Tha's cool. How much are the tickets? Because ah seem to have left my money at home."

"Beep-beep, Richard," Beverly said.

"Could you not call me that?" Richie asked. "No, actually," he said, turning to me, "can you just get rid of this thing?"

I nodded. I went into his mind easily from across the clubhouse, found what I had done, and erased it.

"Okay," I said, only seconds after I had gone in. "Done."

"If it was that easy, then why the hell didn't you take it earlier?"

"I thought it was funny," I replied with a strait face.

"It saved our lives," Ben pointed out.

"That was pure luck!" Richie protested.

"D-Doesn't matter," Bill said. I reminded myself to remove his stutter before we went down into the sewers. "We n-nuh-need t-to-"

"He's waking up," Beverly interrupted.

I turned to look at Eddie, and saw that he was, indeed, stirring. His eyes fluttered half-open, then snapped the rest of the way. He sat up and backed up against the wall. His skin had gone a sickly white, he was shaking, and his eyes remained wide open.

"Who are you all?" he asked, his gaze shifting rapidly between each of us. "Who are you? What have you done to me?"


	35. 3,8

CHAPTER EIGHT

"Eh-Eddie?" Bill asked.

"Eddie, it's us!" Richie said. "The Losers Club! Dedicated to killing the monster that lives under the city."

"You're crazy," Eddie said. He backed up against the wall, and as Richie stood up, Eddie grabbed a knife out of the small stash of food we had.

"Stay back," he said. "I mean it. I will-"

He was cut off from his potential speech by his own sudden gasps as his asthma kicked in, full force. He found himself on the ground doubled over. I saw Bill looking around, find Eddie's aspirator, and go to grab it.

Okay. Eddie would be all right. But he still held the knife. I walked over to him, and he looked up, watching me approach.

"I…I mean it…" he managed to get out before he doubled over again. I kneeled next to him, knowing full well that Eddie wouldn't hurt me, whether he recognized me or not. He wasn't that sort of person. I found myself grateful that it had been him, and not Beverly or Bill or Mike. They just might strike back.

I gently pried the knife out of Eddie's hand, and stepped back to let Bill hand Eddie his aspirator.

I wondered, briefly, if he still recognized that, at least. He did, or at least, he knew how to use it. He'd had his aspirator around him all the time for a long time. It had become, in a way, his best friend. Closer then any of us could get.

Eddie, disarmed but still wildly paranoid, albeit slightly more trusting now, slowly stood up.

"Who are you?" he asked again. He was visibly shaking.

"We're friends," Mike said. Eddie looked a bit perplexed at that, and I could almost read him: I was friends with a black kid? But it wasn't doubtful, and the wild and unbelieving side of him fell away. He understood, somehow, that his words were the truth.

"What do you remember?" Ben asked.

"Nothing," he said. "I don't remember anything."

"You don't remember anything about anything?" Stan asked.

"No."

"How the hell did Henry _do_ that?" Beverly asked.

'He's a force of the red,' Bill thought. But it was buried deep in his subconscious; I was doubtful that Bill heard it himself.

"H-Henry didn't do th-th-this," Bill said. "Ih-It did. It."

"What did this?" Eddie asked. He seemed to be slowly relaxing, although the look in his eye suggested that he could go back into attack mode in a heartbeat.

"There's a monster," I said. "Actually, several. Not fairytale monsters, either. It's very real, and it's killing kids. And the adults, well, we don't really know what happened to them. They're gone now."

"We've killed two," Beverly said. "There's one left. And we're going to try to kill that one, too."

"And…and I was helping you out? Risking my life?" Eddie asked. The tone in which he asked it was disheartening. He seemed surprised, nearly shocked, and that said to me that he wouldn't be nearly as willing to continue doing so. He didn't remember his decision that he'd be willing to die for Bill; he didn't even remember him.

"Y-Yes," Bill said. "Th-The question now is, are y-y-you going to d-do it again? Wuh-one last time?"

"I don't know," Eddie mumbled. "What kind of monsters are we talking?"

"Shape-shifter," Bill said, using more common word-choices of his time.

"Emotion-Vampire," I said at the same time, using my 2006 vocabulary.

"Which is it?" Eddie asked.

"Kinda both," I said.

"And…and just what does it entail to agree to help you kill it? What do I have to do?"

"Go into the sewers," Beverly said. "You're going to have to show us the way."

"I can't do that," Eddie said incredulously, shaking his head. "I just can't. I don't remember how or why, but I know that it's just not something I can do."

"Wh-Why not?" Bill asked; demanded. "Are you t-t-too d-d-helicate?"

"I think that's it," Eddie said, as though striking upon a new idea, or uncovering an old one. "I'm too delicate."

"That's just what your mom used to say," Mike pointed out. "Do you remember her?"

"N-No," Eddie said, and now it was he stammering. "I don't remember…"

"She took control of your life," Ben said. "If you can't remember her, then I don't think there's much of a chance of recovery."

I knew, now that I was telepathically connected with Ben, that he was hoping to start a recovery, or maybe a memory, just by shocking Eddie out of it. But it seemed to have quite the reverse effect, with Eddie sinking into a form of depression.

"He's going to be fine," Richie spoke up quickly, glancing at Eddie, who had hung his head in a kind of grief. "He's going to be fine, just fine. Ain't that right, Eds?"

"Don't call me that," Eddie said automatically. He then looked up, surprised at his own words. "Was that from before?" he asked.

"Yes," Richie said. "Usually followed by a 'You know how I hate that.'"

"Right," Eddie responded. And then, on the heels of that: "I don't remember that." Almost as though he were denying remembering anything.

I was suddenly hit again with a sense of unreality, and I found myself distant from myself. I grasped out for the wall to steady myself, but my physical arm didn't so much as twitch, but a metaphysical version rose instead, a milky-white, transparent hand and arm reached out blindly for the wall. However, it couldn't support me, and I took a stumbling step backwards, but kept my feet.

"Stan," I managed to get out, feeling my physical body separating from my astral one; even as my mouth formed words, I felt a separation from the jaws and teeth. "I'm going to need the time again…"

(There is no Stan; there never was)

(Sara! Where are you?)

(phantom voices…)

"12:11," Stan said. As before, all the looseness and half-way feelings fell away, and I fell into reality with a snap.

"Did it happen again?" Beverly asked worriedly.

"Yes," I said. I looked at the others, checking their wrists. None of them had watches, except for Stan. "I think I'm going to need your watch," I said to him.

"What's going on?" Eddie asked. He seemed to be more calm now, although still slightly untrusting, still ready for action.

"Hell if we know," Stan said calmly, taking his watch off and handing it to me. He looked up once, glanced over the others, as though asking, or maybe daring, them to correct or defy him.

"Sh-She's not f-f-from this t-time," Bill said.

"Well yes," Eddie said, unconsciously dismissing something his subconscious knew. "But why did she need the time?"

"My name is Sara," I told him, almost indignantly. Having an older sibling, I was constantly sick of being referred to as a lesser being. My name held my identity, at least, to me.

Although none of the others were younger siblings (most were the only children of their own respective families), they all seemed to feel the same way. They made their introductions, only of names. Eddie seemed to slightly remember them; their names triggered word associations within him.

"Fine," Eddie said, after the rounds had been made, "Why does Sara need the time?"

"We don't know that," I said, glancing down to the watch I had fastened to my wrist.

"There must be some reason," Eddie prompted.

"I keep feeling like I'm going to snap back," I explained. "And the time somehow stops that. I don't think it's going to work when it actually becomes 10:09 here."

"Th-Then we need to do it t-t-today," Bill said decisively.

"Then we _need_ to do it right now," Richie said, suddenly sitting up.

"Wh-What?" Bill asked.

"Call it intuition, boy, but ah say we need to get our sorry asses out of here."

"Why?" Ben asked. I shared his confusion at first, but then, a second later; I felt whatever it was that Richie was feeling. Something was off, although it was hard to discern what.

"I feel it, too," I spoke up. "Whatever it is, it's big, and it's a problem. We need to get going."

"I didn't say that I was going with you guys," Eddie said nervously, actually backing up a few steps, as if to get away from us.

"I don't know what's going to happen to you if you stay here," I said, "but I don't think it's going to be pleasant."

Eddie's eyes widened slightly at my words, and his face grew grim. He was having trouble believing me…but some part of him already did.

"Alright," he said, "I'll go with you."

I grabbed my bow and strung it, attached my quiver to my hip, and stood ready to go. Beverly was performing the same procedure, grasping the slingshot and loading her pockets with the silver shots. Had there been time, there would've been a shoot-out, but as it was, there would just have to be two shooters in this expedition.

Ben grabbed a lantern, while Richie went for the matches. Stan reached for his bird-book, which had found itself somehow or another inside the clubhouse. I reflected back, and realized that Richie had brought it back when he'd gone to get Stan's stuff. Stan glanced through it, taking a meticulous care with it, and placed it in some inner fold of his jacket.

Eddie, during the flurry of movement, walked over to Bill. Maybe it was some instinct; his subconscious telling him to go to him. Or maybe it was just because Bill was the only stationary person.

We quickly climbed out of the clubhouse, and Richie and I both glanced nervously south, looking for whatever it was that we'd felt.

We started trekking to the Standpipe, and each of us remained on edge. Beverly, at the front of our line, grasped the slingshot's cup, letting the slingshot itself dangle on the elastic. Inside the cup, there was a single shot.

Behind her, Ben glanced around nervously, and I could slightly pick up on his thoughts. Most were on Beverly, but that could be predicted. His thoughts were also of bravery, strangely chivalrous thoughts, fitting for a knight or a hero.

Stan kept his eyes firmly locked on his feet, glancing up only every once in a while to glance around, but his gaze would ultimately settle again on where he was about to walk. Dread was radiating off of him in waves. None of us were looking forward to this, but Stan's unwillingness was unmatchable, except, perhaps, by Eddie.

Mike stopped suddenly and fell backwards when a bird swooped down and passed inches from his face. Richie, behind him, started, too, but caught Mike before he fell.

"Sorry," Mike mumbled. Richie, surprisingly, said nothing, but nodded once. Mike looked shaken, and I realized that the bird, at that close, must have looked huge, that is, before depth perception kicked in. And having a giant bird appear out of nowhere was, in a way, exactly what Mike had expected.

Richie seemed to be shaken by Mike's fear. Both Mike and Richie were fairly good at this mind-power thing, and Mike's projection of his sudden fear didn't help Richie, who was unarmed and already paranoid. He looked around, all over, but mostly south.

Eddie, while not the most frightened of us (mainly because he had absolutely no idea of what he was getting into), he was certainly the most apprehensive. He looked around a lot at first, but after a while, just set his gaze ahead, and he walked easily enough on the slim animal-path that had been tramped out. He moved with an unconscious ease, which I hoped meant that he was getting his directional sense back. I certainly hoped so; the absolute last place that I wanted to be was under the sewers, lost in the dark. However, I couldn't sense his mind, not at all. Either his amnesia continued to spread, or whatever connection we had shared had been severed when Henry had attacked him.

'Bill,' I said in his mind, 'Can you sense Eddie's mind? At all?'

'No,' he sent back, before he could have possibly had a chance to check. 'I've already tried a few times. Something's locked down. But I don't know exactly what.'

Bill walked behind Eddie, right in front of me. He seemed to keep an eye on the others with his physical eyes, and an eye on me with his mental eye. His leadership role seemed to have completely stepped forwards. His stride was calm a confident, and I saw an immense amount of power in him.

I walked in the back, able to see all the others.

There was another rush; a dizzying unreality. I saw them, "The Losers," but I didn't feel like I really and truly walked among them. I glanced down at the watch again, and marked the time. And again, things snapped back, although a bit more reluctantly then before.

The unreality was replaced with a sudden nervousness. I could tell it came from one of the others, but exactly who it was, I couldn't tell. Whatever it was, it didn't matter. It was found on a solid foundation. I strung an arrow on the string. I didn't draw back, but held my bow up a bit higher, and mentally rehearsed raising it, drawing it, and shooting it.

"Who is Henry?" Eddie asked suddenly after a few minutes of tense silence, making Beverly and I jump.

"That's it," Richie said, a bit too loudly, but caught up in an excited understanding. "I don't know how or why, but that's it. He's coming."

"Is that what you felt?" I asked him.

"Yes," he said, without a doubt in his voice.

I wasn't so certain myself, but I was struggling to fight against the terror that would only feed It, would only make It stronger. Richie, incredibly, seemed to be almost relaxed, now that he understood why he was afraid.

I remember something from before, the though surfacing almost randomly. It was a memory. It had little to do with our current situation, besides that we'd be going down into the sewers soon. I put it to action.

'What are we going to do about Eddie?' I asked Bill in his mind.

I didn't really care about the answer; Eddie would just have to take things as they came, as he always had. He seemed to be fine doing what he was doing, even now, when his mind was otherwise occupied. What I was doing was edging as close to Bill's mind as I could.

'I don't know,' he responded. 'I guess just hope his subconscious is enough to-'

I didn't listen for the rest, but moved into Bill's mind, and finding, in seconds, his speech center. I fixed it up again, the temporary fix that I'd done once before.

Bill, I could tell, figured out what I was doing, but sat back and let me. I thought, before, that I'd needed to take him by surprise to do it right, but apparently, that wasn't true anymore, or maybe it never had been. Maybe my powers had picked up, or maybe it was his.

I moved in and out in a few seconds, and none of the others had noticed anything at all. Before, it had been quite a bit longer, and quite a bit more painful on his part, but it was more advanced this time, somehow more sophisticated. Maybe it would last longer this time.

'Did it work?' I asked Bill. I hadn't left his mind entirely when I was finished, but clung on just enough to talk to him.

"Testing, one two three," Bill mumbled.

"What?" Eddie asked.

"Never mind," Bill said. I could tell that he was smiling, maybe from his tone of voice, maybe from his sudden joyous and hopeful feeling in his mind and thoughts. It even, temporarily, overrode his fear. And as it did, it also temporarily overrode the other's fears.

"Something just happened," Richie pointed out. "What just happened?" he added, almost as though he were questioning himself.

"Do you think Henry's gone?" I asked him. I was uncertain if what he was talking about had to do with Henry (which would be almost too good to be true) or Bill (which I didn't know if he could sense).

"No," he said. "That would be too good to be-"

His words were muffled as a branch snapped back and nearly smacked him across the face.

"Watch it, Mike," he said.

"Beep-beep, Richie," Mike replied. I noticed that Richie flinched, but when nothing happened, he continued walking forwards. "Now what were you saying about Henry?"

"That it'd be too good to be true," Richie reiterated. "Henry's not dead. Bastards like him…well, he's not going to die anytime soon."

"But what is he going to do?" Ben asked. "What, exactly, did we do to him?"

"We drove him crazy," I said.

"He was already crazy," Ben shot back.

"We made him more crazy," Bill said, "And quite a bit less dangerous."

Richie shook his head while looking down, but was grinning slightly. "Bill," he said, "Sometimes I wonder if you're just faking that stutter of yours."

"I got rid of it for a while," I explained.

"How long do-" Mike started, but was cut off suddenly by Richie.

"He's coming," Richie said, looking, again, due south.

I felt it too, or maybe it was just the truth radiating off of his words. But we all stopped to listen. At first, there was nothing out of the ordinary; no sounds besides the birds and the wind. But then there came a sound, far-off and out of place. It was a heavy tramping in a steady rhythm that no animal could possibly make and hope to not be noticed.

"Beverly," Bill said in a low voice, almost whispering. "Get some rocks and load the slingshot. Sara, don't waste your arrows on him if you can help it."

"Maybe we should just make a run for it," Mike said. "We could probably make it to the Standpipe before he does"

"No" Bill said. "We don't know what condition he's in. If he's hurt or near dead…good. But if he's not, then he's only going to be faster then before.

"No, we're going to ambush him. He's going to come right through here. Get some rocks or something, duck down, stay out of sight, be quiet until I give the signal."

"I don't like this," I said to him, listening to Henry approach. The others didn't stop to listen to us, but just spread out, following orders. Well, all except for Eddie, who only stared towards were the sound was coming from, like a dear caught in headlights.

"It's too late to change your mind," Bill pointed out. "If you run now, you're going to die." I opened my mouth to say something, but realized that I had nothing to say. So I closed my mouth and hid as Bill steered Eddie into some brush to hide. I carefully set aside my bow and took off my quiver and set those aside, too. If either were broken, our chances went down a lot. I began to gather nearby rocks.

Less then thirty seconds later (I grimly reflected on just how damn _close_ we'd come to being caught) Henry slowly tramped into sight.

He was dirty and ungroomed and limping on one leg, but that wasn't important or significant, but just what could be expected from someone wandering the woods, and having slept there overnight.

What set him apart from any other wanderer were his eyes. They were furrowed in a kind of hatred, but that could have been instinctual, or deeply ingrained in his mind. They were blank, and that's what made me wonder. If I had seen that look in any of my friend's eyes, I would have been out of my mind with worry. As it was, I watched the look like I was watching an animal in a zoo, or as I watched the victims in my brother's horror movies: slightly concerned, but mostly stoic.

I suddenly heard Bill, faintly, in my mind. I couldn't tell what he was saying, and realized after a few confused moments that he was talking to Richie.

'Stay low,' he said, switching his speech to me. 'Maybe you're right, maybe we can sneak past him.

"I know you're here," Henry growled.

'So much for that,' I whispered back to Bill.

'Just wait a sec…'

Henry, in one unexpected, fluid motion, drew his knife, spun around, and stabbed in the brush where Ben was hiding. There was a crash, and I saw shards of glass flying. I realized with dismay that Ben must have held up our only lantern that he had been holding to protect himself in a quick reflex-action.

Bill suddenly stood up from where he was, and started throwing rocks. Eddie remained hidden and watched him, but the rest of us stood up and started throwing.

"You fucking freaks!" Henry bellowed in rage, even as he backed off, holding up an arm to protect his face. He pulled out his knife and started waving it around, as though hoping to randomly hit one of us. "You fucking rock-throwers! I'll teach you to throw rocks!"

"I think we have that down pretty well by now," Richie said, throwing one that cut his forearm, making Henry bleed.

Henry's knife swung dangerously close to Beverly. However, each of us threw a rock, and Mike's hit him in the stomach, Bill's in the knee, Richie's at his head, and Ben's neatly clipped Henry's hand, forcing it back. When Henry retracted the knife, he nearly cut himself on it.

"How many times have we told you to stay out?" Bill asked, striding confidently forwards. Henry took anther step back, but when he realized what he was doing, he took it forwards again.

"The Barrens isn't your place, it's ours. Get out now."

"You s-" Henry began, but realized that the term "Stuttering Freak" no longer fit Bill. Because Bill had transcended, somehow, nearly risen above the rest of the "Loser's Club." The only thing now nailing him to us was It…and the knowledge that he wasn't free for long.

'gv ee ntr…' I couldn't exactly here what Bill was saying, but I could hear fragments of what he was saying to someone; probably Ben or Mike, both who were near where Bill's thought-patterns were directed towards.

I realized what he'd said as he handed Bill the broken lantern. As he received it, Bill continued his back-and-forth with Henry. Henry didn't notice the lantern that was in Bill's hands until it was swinging in the air, smashing down on his head. Henry was instantly knocked out.

"I don't think you should've done that, Bill," Richie said dubiously, walking forwards to survey Henry. "'Twas brave of you, but I don't think you should've."

I felt the same sort of unease. Richie and I had been connected to Henry longer then any of the others, and we could both tell that something was terribly wrong. Henry awake, even as crazy as he'd been, was holding back something, some deadly force. A sort of force, maybe, that It had instilled within him. Whatever it was, it would ooze out of Henry's unconscious body like a liquid from a jar; slowly at first, but it would pick up speed.

"We need to go back," Beverly said. "The lantern…"

"No time for that, sugar," Richie said, glancing again at Henry. There wasn't anything wrong with him…or so it seemed, at first. His body seemed to be just a little bit off; it was a bit like looking at a disproportional painting. I noticed that his shadow was a bit too large, a bit too stretched out in each direction. I then realized that it was not his shadow at all. Something was slowly creeping out of Henry's body, a strange mixture of shadow and liquid. It was moving outwards, radiating from Henry's heart.

"That's not right," Stan commented.

"What is that?" Eddie asked.

"It's not good, whatever it is," I answered. "And it's going to pick up speed."

"We have matches," Bill pointed out to Beverly. "Let's go. Let's finish this."

So we started trekking again, walking the narrow dirt path that we'd been on before. Bill kept a close eye on me, consistently checking over his shoulder, and constantly kept a link up between us. At first I didn't understand why, and was confused. However, I remembered my own paranoid thoughts from a few days ago about how easy it would be for It to pick us off, one by one, starting from the back.

When he glanced back for the umpteenth time after around ten minutes of walking, his gaze shifted over my shoulder, and his jaw dropped. He stopped walking, and I nearly plowed into him.

"What's…" I started as I looked over my shoulder, too. I never finished my sentence.

The blackness that had flowed from Henry like blood was now forming what almost looked like a dome. It was slowly expanding, the darkness. It was just over the treetops when I saw it, and it was growing.

I felt my jaw drop, too; a mirror of Bill. I'm sure it would have looked quite comical to an observer, one who was in no danger whatsoever. However, it certainly didn't _feel_ funny.

"We might want to pick up the pace," Bill said to the others, who had obliviously continued to walk forwards.

They stopped then, only a few yards ahead, anyways. They quickly turned around, to see what was going on. They each, in turn, caught sight of the domish figure. All, that is, except for Stan. He had turned, but had fixed his eyes firmly on Bill. And when he saw the other's reactions, he turned away, facing forwards again.

"Stan…" Mike said, trailed off.

"I _don't_ want to see it," Stan said firmly.

"But-"

"_No._"

"Okay."

"We nuh-need to go," Bill said urgently, nearly panicked. I noted his stutter, noted the tone in which he did so. "We need to run."

Beverly, without hesitation, started to run. Ben glanced at her, to Bill, and then back to Beverly.

"Run!" Richie insisted, giving him a light shove to start him off.

So we started running through the thickets of the Barrens, and the next few minutes was a haze of tiredness and flashing green and swinging branches. There were other things, too, like the mingled terror, but the former few were the most prominent.

Most of us couldn't resist glancing back several times at the darkness that was slowly closing in. Once it got large enough, it started multiplying, started swelling faster and faster.

'Are we going to be safe?' I asked Bill, in my mind. I was panting, by now, and almost completely unable to speak. 'Are the sewers going to protect us?'

'Yes,' Bill said. 'We'll be safe there.'

I wondered if he honestly knew, or just being reassuring. I knew, instinctively, that going into the darkness was almost certainly death, and probably not a pleasant one. And if that was so, then we were doomed no matter how fast we ran. Nobody could leave Derry, anyways. We would hit the barrier, and then we would await our doom.

Or we could face the _other_ darkness.

We could go into the sewers.

Yes. We were going to do that.

The tangles and thickets of the forest suddenly broke away, and we emerged into a clearing. At the other end,

(too far)

there was the Standpipe.

We ran just a little longer, and reached it. Beverly was the first to reach the entrance to the sewers, but just stood by it, unwilling to let go of her slingshot. Ben, the next, quickly began working at the manhole cover. Richie helped him when he reached it a few seconds later.

It didn't budge.

"It's like it's nailed shut," Ben explained to us through clenched teeth. I glanced back, once; saw the dark energy swarming up to an enormous size. It blotted out a good third of the sky. It was bloating out so fast that I was amazed that we'd made it as far as we had, running or no.

"Everyone, together." Bill said. He moved in to help, as did the rest of us. Eddie and Stan hovered for a minute, separate. But they moved in to help.

The manhole cover slid off as though it hadn't been held down before at all. I felt a sudden surge of hope at that. No matter how powerful this monster was or claimed to be, we were more powerful together. We always had been.

"'Cmon!" Bill said. His tone was not that of enthusiasm, but of near-desperation. I got a glance at his face before he leaped the top and into the darkness. I saw something that I hadn't seen before, although it had, in a way, made its presence known. His face was drawn and grim. Something, maybe his leadership, had affected him, in a way too deep to keep within himself.

Bill was still himself, in every way, near-perfection, but in that instant, I wanted nothing more to do with him. However, I'd already pledged myself to him. What could I do but follow him now?

Beverly followed Bill in, and then Richie, Ben, Mike, Eddie. Stan stood at the edge, and turned to face me.

"I'm not doing this again," he said. His face looked haunted, a dim mirror of Bill's.

"No one's asking you to," I said.

Behind Stan, the darkness-bubble that had been rapidly expanding suddenly picked up speed, going up just one more notch, now closing in fast enough to be on us in seconds.

"Shit-" I said quickly before I jumped forwards (dropping my bow in while doing so), tackling Stan, letting both of us fall into the sewers.

The wave of darkness passed over us; I watched it sweep over the opening as I fell. I wondered, briefly, if I'd saved Stan, only to have him land on his neck and die here. Or maybe I'd just killed us both.

I heard a muffled thump as someone caught Stan. I waited for the loud 'thud' that was sure to follow when I hit the ground. But there was none. There was another light 'thump' as someone caught me, too.

I looked up and saw Richie's face. I was positioned in his arms.

"Y'all right?" he asked.

I nodded. He let go of my legs and helped me to keep my feet. I saw Bill doing the same for Stan.

'We're okay,' I thought dully. 'We're really okay. We made it here, we're going to do this.'

I looked up, again, at the patch of light (which even now, paradoxically, was coated in the darkness), and just looked at it. I wondered if I would ever see light again. Maybe this was the last daylight I would see before my death.

"Right," Bill said. "Let's go."


	36. 3,9

CHAPTER NINE

I checked the time once before we left. Then the patch of light grew dim as we walked away. My eyes began the slow job of dilating. I stumbled along in the near-darkness.

I could see a few feet in front of me, there was still faint light streaming in at random intervals. But it was dark, still. The darkness seemed to be something physical, something caressing and clenching, something holding us firmly back.

There was something off in the sounds; something that I couldn't quite place for a few moments, until it suddenly hit me. There was music playing, not quite in my head, but not in reality either. I was caught somewhere in between.

The music was "Float on." I could just here the beat and rhythm reverberating around the walls.

'Go away,' I told it, trying to force it away, trying to get rid of it. It wouldn't go. It was trapped in my mind like a Chinese finger trap; the harder I tried…the more it stuck.

"Do you know which way to go?" Bill asked Eddie once we reached the first intersection, starting me out of my revelation. However, the music continued, and the steady bass and bizarre guitar sounds was an undertone to all the sounds.

"Where are we going?" Eddie asked dully.

"Directly under the city," Ben said. "The canal." Neither he nor Bill mentioned that they remembered the first pipe they took. This was a test.

Eddie looked at the three pipes for a minute, and then slowly, haltingly pointed to the middle one. Richie opened his mouth to say something, but Eddie shook his head and pointed to the one on the left.

"Wait, what?" I asked, the only one surprised by that. "Is that right? We're going into the shit pipe?"

"'Fraid so," Mike said, his mouth pressed into a thin line.

"It washes off," Stan said grimly. "Shit washes off."

The others nodded, in remembrance that I could feel but could not get at myself. I even felt a faint stirring in memory from Eddie.

So we stood in the intersection for a while, formed a loose circle. I looked again at the pipe that we'd be going through soon. My head started throbbing again from the night previous.

"C'mon," Bill said quietly. He turned and walked to the pipe, not bothering to turn and check and see if we were coming. He knew we were. I could read his emotions, now, just another thing that added on to my constantly growing cache of powers.

Bill knew that we would follow before he left. This made him feel manipulative and overall crummy. And yet, he pushed on anyways.

Eddie instinctively followed him, and I followed the pair, not wanting to be left behind, as Stan and I almost had before. I guess he was thinking something similar, because he followed closely behind me. I didn't watch, but I knew that Richie and Beverly and Ben and Mike followed close behind, too. No one wanted to be left alone in the dark and in the rank smell.

It smelled worse in the pipe, and I felt a light onset of claustrophobia in it. However, I could feel Eddie shuffling along ahead of me, and I heard Stan behind me. It was enough to keep me going.

There were many other junctions from that point, and after a while, the others could no long confirm if Eddie was choosing the right path. I felt their apprehension at first, at some of the choices he was making, but that was it. There was no steady panic, and there was an occasional recognition of things along the way. Among them, two dead bodies: one of someone who looked like he was working here when he died, and one of a boy that named "Patrick." Apparently, he hadn't been too good of a guy when he was alive. The rats had torn off a large chunk of his face.

I could check Stan's watch, just making out the numbers, for quite a while. But when Eddie started asking for a match to be lit when he was choosing which tunnel was the right one, I started checking the watch each time.

Another pipe. One of the many. Bill muttered something to Eddie, and I heard Bill standing up ahead of me, exiting the tunnel.

"What'd he say?" I asked Eddie, suspecting that it was something important. Eddie stood up, too, as he came into a new chamber.

"He said to watch out for the drop-off," Eddie replied as I fell face-first on the stone floor.

I swung my hands out, and rolled forwards as I landed, preventing further injury, but I did end up smacking my head pretty hard, and I felt the crusty scabs that had been forming break open again, allowing for blood to ooze out.

I slowly sat up, and surprised myself by starting to laugh.

"Thanks for the forewarning," I said, my laughter quickly tapering off as I realized that it really wasn't all that funny.

But it was something, dammit. It was something.

"Are you okay?" Ben asked seriously as Mike helped me to my feet.

"Yes," I said. "I'm alright. I think I cut my head open again, but it's not bleeding too badly."

I was tempted to feel the back of my head with my hands, but I decided that it wasn't such a good idea as I glanced down at my hands, now thoroughly covered in shit and grime and God knew what else. If my head wound would get infected, then it probably would regardless of what I did now…but all the same, I didn't want to take any unnecessary chances.

The absurdity of this thought came a second later, as I realized that I might well die today, here, in the sewers. I smiled, but it seemed to be swallowed up in the darkness. This depressing feeling took it off my face in a hurry.

"Shit," Eddie said, suddenly, forcefully. "I remember now. Bill, I remember it all now."

His words were filled with truth. I could feel the desperation of the need of his words to be acknowledged. I felt his memories flooding back in a tidal wave. I was worried about the force of them.

'Bill,' I said quietly in his mind, ready to warn him of the force of the memories that Eddie had not yet comprehended. Or maybe he had, because Eddie fell to his knees, clutching his head.

'I know,' he said, reading my mind in the same way I'd been able to his. 'Help me hold it back if you can.'

I started to, prepared myself to, but suddenly, the wall to my left ripped open.

Or so it first seemed.


	37. 3,10

CHAPTER TEN

At first I was reminded of when the Turtle had ripped open the world's wallpaper to get at Richie. I looked at the tear and half-expected to see myself several days ago, still new to this, but warming up to it.

But, I realized a second later, it wasn't a tear at all. It was the same sweeping blackness that had radiated from Henry's unconscious body, leaving only the sewers unaffected.

"How…?" I asked aloud, bewildered. It did not spread, but stood stationary, slowly rotating, looking much like the theories I'd seen on what a black hole just might look like.

I felt a gust of wind pass by my face as some force swung close by it. Whatever it was wasn't important; suddenly, I heard Richie's air whistle out of his lungs, as though he'd been punched in the stomach. I saw him fall back, landing the darkness.

Out of the darkness, something suddenly shone like a pair of impeding headlights, and it showed Eddie, who continued to hold his head, still forced on the ground, oblivious to the danger he was in. He was in the middle of the room, but would not be safe for long. The rest of us had backed off to the right edge of the room, spread out against the back wall.

"We n-n-nuh-need to get out!" Bill said suddenly.

"Where?" Stan asked, his voice terrified. There were no tunnels on this side of the wall.

"Anywhere," Bill said, casting his eyes around in the brilliant light of the evil It had sent to us. "There!" he said, now pointing to a random tunnel on the opposite side of the room we had come in.

This tunnel was a bit more elegant then the others, with a much higher arch and a ridge around the frame. The others recognized it as one they hadn't gone down on their last journey.

"Eddie come on," Beverly said urgently. I don't think she understood fully just how much agony he was in. He was lying fully on the ground now, on his side.

Mike ran out to grab Eddie, but there was another sudden whooshing sound, and the dark cloud bulged out to pull Mike into its depths. He'd gotten too close. It was a miracle that Eddie hadn't been pulled in already.

'That's two…' I thought. Nothing else came. No ideas. No plans. Nothing that could have helped; nothing that made its stealthy appearance when I needed it the most. Instead, the song that had been running continuously in my head since we came down here, "Float on," turned up, distracting me.

'We need to get him,' I heard Ben think. 'We're not going to get out without him.'

"Dammit, Bill, what do we do?" I asked frantically.

"Make a chain," he said. He, like the rest of us, was struggling against the suction coming from the cloud, like leaning against a high wind. He ducked as another sudden wind passed over his head, where it would have thrown him off balance, thrown him in. "H-Human chain. Beverly, get at the end, hold on to the ridge on that tunnel. Don't let go for anything."

Beverly, who was on the side of the way we had come in, slowly made her way against the raging wind to the other side of the chamber we were in, edging around the side where the wind tunnel was. Stan attempted to dodge a gust, but got hit, and flew towards the tunnel. Beverly stuck out an arm and caught him, and nearly fell off-balance herself. I steadied the pair of them, and walked with them the last few feet.

Beverly put the slingshot into her hip pocket, and I slung my bow over my chest. Beverly got a good hold onto the edge.

So the chain went like this: Beverly, Stan, me, Ben, Bill. We stayed against the wall, and prepared to go out into the wind, a battle of strength.

Stan's hands were sweaty and slippery. I slid my hand up to grab his wrist instead, letting him grab mine. Ben, however, had a firm grip, and I wasn't worried much about him letting go.

Eddie still kneeled in the center of the room, living his own personal hell of swarming memories. The gusts and suction picked up, and he stood on his feet. Not of his own accord, but of the wind slowly claiming him.

Bill unthinkingly jumped out, letting the wind claim him, holding on to Ben, jumping as a bungee jumper would, resting his life fully on the assumption that the rope would hold; resting his life on his knowledge that we wouldn't let go.

As he did so, each of us was pulled off of our feet, suspended by the suction and by Beverly holding on. I glanced back, saw her straining, but knew that she could hold on longer, quite a bit longer, if she needed to.

Eddie started to fall forwards, but Bill caught him by the hand. Eddie's other arm fell into the cloud, but he pulled it out, and curled up, so that no other limbs would be pulled in.

Stan's grip started to slowly let go. I tightened my grip on his arm,and for a few terrifying seconds, that was all that was holding the chain intact.

"Grab onto my hand!" I shouted furiously at Stan. "Don't let go!"

He grasped my hand again, and then Beverly began to pull us back. Stan grasped a hold of the chamber door, and helped Beverly pull us in.

As I was pulled through, the suction ceased. It just stopped, as though there were some sort of force field in the arch, holding the suction entirely in the room.

The three of us pulled in Ben, Bill, and Eddie.

"We're out," I said, relieved.

"Not Mike and Richie," Beverly said morbidly. "They're still in there."

"Say, Eddie, how are you doing?" Ben asked.

"Not so hot," Eddie said. He was shaking, but I could sense that the cascade of memories had slowed, or maybe stopped.

"Good to have you b-back," Bill said.

We stood in the chamber for a long time, with the water flowing around our ankles, and the brilliant light glimmering from the other room, reflecting blindingly off of the water.

"So where do we go?" Beverly asked Bill. Her voice had an edge of panic to it that I didn't like. "What do we do now?"

"We can either go after the others, or we can find It," Ben said, logically laying out the options.

"We don't know where the others are," I said. "They could be anywhere."

"They're in the Deadlights now," Stan said, glancing to the adjoining room, where the cloud still writhed and turned and shone out the light. "That's what that light is."

All of us snapped our gazes over as we saw the truth in Stan's words. The light had seemed a bit off to me before, but I hadn't pondered it long enough to figure out exactly what.

"Then we go find It," Bill said. "If I can get back into It's D-Deadlights, then I might b-be able to find them. Eddie, is there another way to It's lair that d-doesn't go through this tunnel?"

"I think so," Eddie said. He thought to himself for a minute. "I'm pretty sure there is."

"Lead the way," Bill said.

Eddie glanced around once, and started walking again.


	38. 3,11

CHAPTER ELEVEN

_I backed my car into a cop car the other day_

_Well he just drove off sometimes life's okay_

_I ran my mouth off a bit too much what did I say?_

_Well you just laughed it off it was all okay._

_And we'll all float on okay_

_And we'll all float on okay_

_And we'll all float on okay_

_And we'll all float on anyway_

_Well-_

It continued to run through my head, winding and chewing like a rat that just wouldn't go away. I had liked that song before; I had enjoyed listening to "Float On." But it had taken on a nightmarish quality, and I doubted that I would ever listen to it again without thinking about the sewers.

_A fake Jamaican took every last dime with that scam_

_It was worth it just to learn some slight-of-hand_

_Bad news comes don't you worry even when it lands_

_Good news will work its way through all them plans_

_We both got fired on exactly the same day_

_Well we'll float on good news is on the way_

And indeed, I did feel lightheaded, and I could feel myself separating, ready to zoom back to my own time at any moment. I felt mildly high, nearly drugged. I felt as though I were floating inside of my own body, maybe slowly drifting out of body, if you could dig it.

I had to start asking for matches to be lit, even when Eddie wasn't using them. Our supply grew shorter.

_And we'll all float on okay_

_And we'll all float on okay_

_And we'll all float on okay_

_And we'll all float on alright!_

_Already we'll all float on now don't you worry we'll all float on alright already we'll all float on alright don't worry we'll all float on.._

I was getting more and more tired, and it wasn't just me. While it was true that there was an addition to the group since they'd last been here (me), there were now two less. We struggled to keep moving, and our energy level slowly went down, as though there was a leak somewhere.

The music in my head had reach an ominous plateau, and I felt an association that was only halfway connected with the music.

"Something's wrong," I said. I had since had an arrow strung on my bow, but now I raised it, even drew it back a little, ready to shoot. Beverly, maybe acting more off of my nervousness, held her slingshot to eye level.

There was a shadow that passed on the wall on my right. I swung around, but it was already gone.

_Alright already and we'll all float on alright already we'll all float on alright don't worry even if things end up a bit too heavy we'll all float on alright already we'll all float on alright already we'll all float on okay don't worry we'll all float on even if things get heavy we'll all float on_

The intensity of the words hit me in several different ways, and I was driven to one knee. My eyes closed of their own accord. From behind closed eyelids, I saw a flash of

(Deadlight)

light, and when I opened my eyes, I saw that Eddie was gone.

"Well fuck this shit," Ben said, shaking his head. "We are so fucking screwed now."

"W-We'll be okay," Bill said. "We j-j-juh-"

I watched him trying to force his words out, not pityingly, not worried. Just stoic. I stared and watched, and I didn't really understand just how bad our situation was.

"Just need to p-pull together," Bill finished.

"We can't do that," Stan said, both reasonable and terrified. "We're almost down by half."

"We c-can," Bill said. "We have t-to. It's going to k-k-keep coming…"

_And we'll all float on _

_We'll all float on…_

Beverly suddenly shot one of her shots a few feet over Stan's head. The silver slug crashed into the back wall, and I heard sections of stone shattering. I drew up my bow, but whatever she'd been shooting at was already gone. I looked over to her questioningly.

"I saw It," she said. "One of It's faces, at least."

"Did you get it?" Stan asked shakily.

"No," she replied.

"Where'd Ben go?" I asked, bewildered, looking around. He had, indeed, disappeared.

"D-Dammit!" Bill hissed through clenched teeth. "It w-was a d-d-diversion."

"Yup," I replied. My voice shook slightly.

"I sh-sh-should've seen th-this coming," Bill moaned, pacing back and forth. "I sh-should've s-s-s-stopped-"

"Shhh…" Beverly whispered. "It's okay Bill," she said, quietly, soothingly. "We came down, we knew we wouldn't get back up… we already accepted the risks…the consequences…we were expecting this. We knew this would happen. It's alright."

"I d-d-d-didn't r-r-really th-think-"

"It's okay man," Stan said. "It's alright." Somehow, Stan's reassurance seemed to calm Bill more then Beverly's had. Maybe because he knew that if Stan was okay with it, then maybe it really was all right.

There were a few minutes of silence. The light in the next room twisted and writhed, and never faded. Bill had turned to face the wall, regaining his composure. Stan looked at the ground, thinking his own thoughts. The Deadlights continued to dance and wave across the shallow water's surface. Beverly, however, stared directly into the next room, strait into the Deadlights. I noticed this only when Stan quietly said something to her; his specific words were masked by a drain opening somewhere nearby, sending a nice little shower of crap down. Stan was shaking his head, glancing once towards the lights. His gaze, too, caught for a second, but returned to the ground. Beverly nodded, and shifted her gaze down, too.

"We nuh-need to get moving," Bill said, turning to face us again. "If we c-can make it to It's l-lair, then I th-think we might stand a chance."

I turned and shot off an arrow as I saw movement towards Beverly. The arrow hit its target: a rat. Just a rat.

"Careful with your ammo supply," Beverly said. She said it slowly, disconnected. I doubted she was thinking about what she said.

I felt some of the numbness that she was feeling. We were stuck, and being slowly torn apart.

"Do you know which way to go?" Stan asked Bill.

Bill opened his mouth, almost certainly to say no. A possible reality flashed by in my mind: wandering, becoming more and more scared, one of us, almost certainly Stan, finally snapping. Going crazy. Stan, reaching far, could only just accept being in the sewers to begin with, but being lost, being in the dark…well…there wasn't really anything he could do about that. I quickly sent a thought to Bill's mind:

'Say yes,' I said. 'Even if you have to lie. Say yes. Stan can't just wander. He'll go crazy.'

"Y-Yes," Bill said. He didn't respond to my thought, not aloud, not in my mind. Maybe he understood, or had a similar vision of a possible outcome to his saying "no."

I could tell that Stan didn't believe him, not at first. But Bill smiled a reassuring smile that could just be glimpsed in this light. Stan's disbelief gave way to an uneasy acceptance. Maybe he understood that Bill was lying to him on some level, but he would rather let it go then think about it.

"Th-This way," Bill said, and walked confidently down a random path. Beverly walked next to him, holding her slingshot up. Stan trekked close behind the pair, and I trailed in the back, back a little bit, leaving myself room to whip around without slashing anyone with the arrow's point. My focus remained, mostly, to the front, watching Bill walk. Although he really didn't have any idea where we were, his strides were confident and sure, reflecting Bill himself.

I glanced over the others and licked my lips nervously, wondering who would be taken next: Stan or Beverly, or maybe me. It seemed to go without saying (at least, in my own mind) that Bill would be one of the last or the last one to get out, or the last one around for the confrontation. To even think about Beverly or I to try to take it down—madness! Stan wasn't any better; in fact, he would have been the worst pick. But Bill, well, he'd done it before. If Bill were taken, then all hope would have been lost. We would have sat quietly and awaited our deaths.

At first, as we walked, I focused sharply on my surroundings, my eyes straining against the darkness, searching for movement or traps. But when nothing happened for ten, fifteen, twenty minutes, I started to relax. Although I was not at all fully relaxed, I was a bit, far too much for something of the magnitude of what we were avoiding. My mind actually began to wander. I snapped back, quickly and fully, into the focused-aware state, but that gradually fell back into the drowsy-relaxed feeling. Instead of letting my mind wander, I sent it off, letting it transcend above the sewers.

I watched, as though from a third eye, the streets of Derry, still coated in black and death that could only leave if It died. My two physical eyes watched the sewers, although their focus really weren't as sharp as they should have been, they did watch, and I could still pull myself back in a heartbeat. My third eye watched, but its vision was projected inside of my mind, as though I were seeing it as a memory.

I brought my third eye back, and then had it seek out Eddie. While I was deeply concerned with each of their disappearances, it really was Eddie we needed now. We were getting more and more lost, and the sooner we could get out of it, the better.

I searched, but instead of Eddie, I found It.

Its shape was shifting, blurred against my mind. I was glad; if I'd seen It as it really was, then I think I may have gone insane.

I frowned, wondering why my vision was not moving from Its rapidly shifting body, why it was not searching out Eddie or any of the others.

I closed it off, shook my head, trying to clear it out. I glanced up to ascertain that the others were okay (but wouldn't I have seen if something was wrong?), and saw that Stan was trembling minutely, and that Beverly seemed even more on edge. I wondered if they'd felt my mind accidentally brush with It's mind.

I tried again, feeling some part of me leave to seek Eddie out. It was like setting up a camera in a hidden spot, and I could watch from where I was what was going on elsewhere. This time, I hit.

This time, I found the Deadlights.


	39. 3,12

CHAPTER TWELVE

The first glimpse I saw, I saw eternity. I stared and watched, maybe the first person to ever be able to wrap my mind around the concept of forever. I physically stopped moving, also. The others stopped, and I tried to explain. I suppose that I must have made myself understood somehow, but I don't remember how. I closed my eyes, letting myself better see.

I reluctantly shoved off my knowledge, letting myself fall back into the ignorance of humanity. To do otherwise would to become trapped. To let the others float forever. For a brief, cold moment, I didn't care at all. I had found something greater. But some part of me, something I couldn't quite control, stepped forwards enough to shove off these harmful ideas.

I continued to seek them out. I heard something, something that echoed and rippled, as though I was hearing through water. I listened, wandered, drew closer, almost found them-

"Stan! Stan!" Beverly shouted.

I snapped back, whipped around, held up my bow, and saw that Stan was already gone.

'He won't last,' my mind said to me. 'Not in the Deadlights. He's going to go crazy…or die. Something. We need to work fast.'

"Wh-Wh-We're going about th-this the r-r-ruh-wrong way," Bill said after a long few minutes of silence. I saw a spark of understanding in his eyes; a spark that I knew would let him create for the rest of his life. Maybe let him become a screenplay writer or a novelist. "W-We don't n-nuh-need to do this."

"What are you talking about?" Beverly asked, sounding very scared, very _young._

"W-W-We're doing this th-the same way th-that we did b-b-before," he explained. "W-We have the s-s-silver, and we're l-l-looking f-for ih-It's lair. L-Like we did last time."

"Well, it worked last time," I pointed out.

"It d-d-did," he said, nodding. "B-But it was a l-lot more work. Wh-What we d-did before…n-none of it m-m-mattered. It was a-all just t-t-t-to get to It's muh-mind."

"Sure," Beverly said. "Chüd."

"Sh-sure," Bill agreed. "Th-That's the oh-only thing that r-r-really mattered. We c-c-can d-do that from here, though. S-Sara was j-just doing it."

Bill, when he was talking, sounded surprising like Richie (all stuttering aside). I did not know at this point that when Richie was proposing in idea while simultaneously figuring out what he meant, he sounded almost exactly as Bill did now.

"Do we try?" I asked. "Are we going to do it now?"

Was it madness to think about doing something like this when we were so vulnerable? I wondered this at first, but it was quickly followed up by another thought: It was madness to be down here anyways. Really, what made this any worse?

Bill linked hands with Beverly and me, and then Beverly grasped my hand. It was a triangle, and I wondered if it would work the same as the circle had. There weren't enough of us here, not really even enough to try. But where would we be if we didn't? We had to do something, even if it was only to pass the time before each of our capture.

I reached out for Bill and Beverly first, found their minds. And then, we reached out as one to find It; to find the Deadlights. We had combined somehow; our thoughts were open to one another. I openly wondered if we would have been able to do this will all of us hear, and decided that we probably could have.

Bill and Beverly had their own thoughts, Bills an uncustomary jumble of confusion and fear, Beverly's strangely serene, or maybe it was just trust or understanding.

And so we went. Together. Off to find the Deadlights. Off to save our friends. Off to defeat It once and for all.


	40. 3,13

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

Deadlights.

I could never get used to the way they danced and flashed like lightning; or the precise hue of their light. It was horrible, and I supposed that had I picked a word for their names (had they been another Nameless Horror before given a name), Deadlights would have seemed to be most fitting. It looked like what a dear may see in the headlights shortly before its life ended.

When Bill and Beverly and I found the Deadlights, we had somehow transcended above them. They did not have their hypnotizing lull over us, and their light was not as disconcerting as it had previously been. All them same, however, I noticed them, and the memories were enough to frighten me.

'Where are they?' Beverly asked. She looked around, trying to see into the light, which I felt was surely the wrong way to go about this. I realized, or maybe always knew, that this place was like poison. Searching here was like sifting through radium.

I drew into myself, first to get control, and then to send out a message, trying to find Mike, who had always been the most perceptive of them all, save for Bill and me.

He and I found each other, although no words were passed. He just held on…and so did I. I began to walk through the Deadlights. I saw Bill and Beverly exchange glances when they didn't think I was watching, but I heard them following me after a few seconds.

I felt Bill joining my connection, and then Beverly.

I traced my way back to Mike, and now I felt Eddie clinging on to the connection, too. They joined Bill and Beverly and I, transcended. I didn't find them, but I pulled them toward us. In the Deadlights, directions and places seemed to have softened a bit. I didn't see them emerging from around a corner, but instead, saw them already there, as though they had always been. I looked them over quickly.

Mike and Richie looked shell-shocked and exhausted, but basically all right. Ben looked tired, but he seemed to be fighting off the Deadlight's poisonous charm with ease. Eddie…not doing so good. His hand lightly clasped the edge of his pocket, and he looked as though he could use a good blast of the ol' lung-sucker, but his aspirator was wherever his physical body was. Stan was alright, but I saw that _that_ was quickly deteriorating. Stan had been exposed to the Deadlights enough that he couldn't ever really get away from them. They had somehow connected to his mind…something I saw when he joined his mind to our growing connection.

'So what you guys doing down here?' Richie asked to break the silence. 'Having any good chucks or what?'

Beverly, instead of answering, walked forwards and hugged him. Tears were running down her cheeks.

'Alright,' Richie said. 'Alright kid, it's okay, quit it with the water-works routine.'

Bill watched this, sad and on edge. He understood somehow that they were trapped here, trapped in Its mind. Somehow, if It died, then they would die too, or maybe go crazy. Beverly, Bill, and I were the only ones who were truly free from that.

I realized, with a jolt, that we couldn't free them here. We needed to leave. I never found out if this burst of intuition came from me or from elsewhere, but it is almost certainly what saved our lives.

'Bill,' Ben said, glancing nervously around with an intuition that may have been his or mine. 'You need to get back. Now. Something's wrong.'

'What-'

I felt a sharp tugging, and I was yanked forcibly back to my physical body.


	41. 3,14

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

I dropped the hands of the still-immobile Beverly and Bill, and just stood, swaying for a minute, not comprehending. I only realized later that the Deadlights had been affecting me as I was in there, more then I had thought they had.

A moment passed, and I realized why I had been pulled back as it happened again; another wrenching as my soul tried to pass through time, tried to get back years into the future. I glanced down at the watch again, and the practiced motion was enough to stop it, although I could hardly see the numbers on the face at all.

The glance down showed me a dark spot in the water. Whatever it was, it slowly moved closer…closer…

I tried to scream, but my throat locked down. I was still tired, still recovering from the Deadlights. "Float On" began to play in my head again. I backed away into the next room, clutching my bow to my chest, letting my quiver dangle on its string.

And now, the worst part. Beverly woke up. I saw her eyes turn from dim preoccupation to bright awareness like a light switch flipping up. First she, too, got used to being awake. I tried to call out a warning, but could not. When she glanced around, saw the danger she was in. She saw the black spot edging nearer, certainly the spot was one of Its, just another portal to the Deadlights.

Her eyes, which had still had that dreamy just-woke-up look to them suddenly snapped wide open in shock. Her lips drew back past her teeth in a grimace of terror, and I heard the beginnings of a scream rise up her throat, saw her grab for Bill's paralyzed hand before the dark spot completely swallowed her. It all happened at once, but I heard her scream, but that quickly faded. I watched the spot (whatever it may have been!) move towards Bill.

I shot off an arrow, but it just passed through the spot. It continued to advance on Bill. I saw my choices then, clearly outlined in neon. I could go back and try to save Bill—most possibly ending up doing nothing more then getting myself captured into the Deadlights, too—or I could run, get out of the water, and out of harms way.

I shamefully chose the later of the options, consoling myself at least in the idea that I would be more helpful to them out of the Deadlights, anyways. I scrambled onto a ledge, and watched, helpless, as the spot swallowed Bill, too.

And now she and Bill didn't really have a choice in leaving. And I had been saved by dumb luck. It was now my responsibility to get them out.

Those thoughts passed through my dazed mind, not taking meaning for a few seconds. I brushed off my tangled thoughts, forcing myself to think clearly. I wish I could have said that I forced myself to calm down, too, but I never did manage that trick; not for quite a while, never on my own. I was running on almost pure adrenaline from there on out.

I turned from the room, turned back, and turned away again. I brushed away a few tears as they fell, and properly slung my quiver on my hip, and set up an arrow. I had lost a few; having now only nine out of the original twelve we had prepared. However, nine was still plenty.

I started walking randomly through the tunnels, trying not to let my fear-induced drowsiness affect my watch.

Every shadow started to look like an enemy. I was paranoid that another Deadlight-opening would pop out of nowhere. And would the silver that we had put together save me? And just how could I save them, even if I was safe myself?

I still had to periodically check Stan's watch, and each time I looked up, I saw another shadow, another terror before my mind sorted out my suspicions from reality. I walked through the sewers, and I suppose that It _let_ me wander; _let_ me do to myself that It couldn't really do to me. I knew that I was only making It stronger, but I couldn't keep the fear at bay, not then, not without breaking down completely.

I suppose that the only thing It did do was play the music, play "Float on," and after a while, it stopped being in just my head. It started being in the sewers themselves, started echoing through the pipelines.

I stopped moving, and just started shaking. I wondered vaguely if this was what it was like to have a panic attack, or if I could be okay.

I curled up into the fetal position against the wall, and stared, wide-eyed, into the darkness. I would have lit a match, maybe kept on lighting matches, until they were all out and I was completely blind in the dim light. But the matches were gone; they had left with Beverly.

'Step one,' said the small voice in my head, the projection of my own mind as someone else. 'Calm yourself down as best you can.'

I took a deep, shuddering breath, wiped the tears off of my cheeks, and slowly calmed my breathing. I was still terrified, but it was a manageable terror now, at least. I took another, but before I could let it out, I saw a slight movement in the shadows, freaked out again, and had to start the process over again.

Finally, finally, I had my fear under control. It was as though it was bound by a harness, and I hoped to God that the harness would not break, because I doubted I had enough time to calm myself again.

'You calm? Good. Now for step two: get that song to stop playing.'

I tapped my head once.

"Stop," I whispered, trying to stop the music from playing in my head in the old way, in the way I had before. It was a different scenario, because I had never had a song planted in my head, distracting me, deliberately tearing away my concentration. However, I knew it would work. And, maybe because of my knowledge, it did work. It not only stopped playing aloud, but it stopped playing in my head, too.

There was a sudden absence, and I realized that the song had been playing nonstop for a lot longer then I thought it had. Maybe even since I had found the doorway so long ago. The sudden silence was overpowering in its vastness.

'Then play another song.'

I thought of the song that had been my favorite for a lot longer then any other song. One that was still good. One that I simply couldn't play at a low volume anymore, I couldn't play without turning up the volume full on a quiet night, listening to the music, nearly spasming as the chords and lyrics ripped through my body.

"Speed of sound." The song that had outlasted all the others.

The cool, soft piano music floated through my head. It was loud, and it constricted my hearing, but it was more important for me to get stronger again.

I felt better now, stronger, and more ready. The weary energy had been replaced by a more pure and limitless source. I was ready now. Ready to do battle.

I listened.

_How long before I get in?_

_Before it starts, before I begin?_

_How long before you decide?_

_Before I know what it feels like?_

_Where to, where do I go?_

_If you never try, then you'll never know._

_How long do I have to climb? _

_Up on the side of this mountain of mine?_

_Look up, I look up at night,_

_Planets are moving at the speed of light._

_Climb up, up in the trees,_

_Every chance that you get_

_Is a chance you seize._

_How long am I gonna stand_

_With my head stuck under the sand?_

_I'll start before I can stop,_

_Before I see things the right way up._

_All that noise, and all that sound,_

_All those places I got found._

_And birds go flying at the speed of sound,_

_To show you how it all began._

_Birds came flying from the underground, _

_If you could see it then you'd understand?_

_Ideas that you'll never find,_

_All the inventors could never design._

_The buildings that you put up,_

_Japan and China all lit up._

_The sign that I couldn't read,_

_Or a light that I couldn't see,_

_Some things you have to believe,_

_But others are puzzles, puzzling me._

_All that noise, and all that sound,_

_All those places I got found._

_And birds go flying at the speed of sound,_

_To show you how it all began._

_Birds came flying from the underground,_

_If you could see it then you'd understand._

_Ah when you see it then you'll understand?_

_All those signs, I knew what they meant._

_Some things you can invent._

_Some get made, and some get sent,_

_Ooh?_

_Birds go flying at the speed of sound,_

_To show you how it all began._

_Birds came flying from the underground,_

_If you could see it then you'd understand._

_Ah when you see it then you'll understand?_


	42. 3,15

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

I felt like a warrior.

There was strength and energy, and the weakness that had been all around me was gone so completely that I had trouble believing that it had ever existed.

"Speed of Sound" ripped through my head, and I welcomed the music, welcomed the change and strength it gave.

'This must be what Bill feels like, all the time,' I thought to myself. I envied and pitied him for it. It was good, but I couldn't imagine the long-term effects of something this strong.

"Pennywise!" I called out into the dark, letting it echo throughout the miles of sewer systems. "You've killed others, and now I come to kill you!"

I was not expecting any sort of answer at all. I remembered, from the other's stories of what happened last time, that Bill had called for Pennywise, called it out to do battle, but never had It responded to him.

However, maybe because I was already in It's domain, I heard It come. At first it was just a subtle slithering sound, a light scuttling that I should not have been able to hear over the chorus,

(_all those signs, I knew what they meant, some things you can invent)_

but it was clear enough in my own mind. However, the sounds that I was not meant to hear gave way to one that I was supposed to; a heavy clunking, footfalls, heavy feet.

(_some get made and some get sent)_

"And here you come," I mocked (only dimly comprehending that I was speaking down to what had terrorized us all for so long), "And you still continue with these games."

It rounded a corner, and I saw It in It's clown attire.

"You have your fun," I continued, "And still you try and terrorize me. I'm not afraid anymore."

I realized that the original seven, the original Losers, while still trapped in It's Deadlights, were still lending out their strength to me. And I think that that's what made me strong.

(_And birds go flying at the speed of sound, to show you how it all began)_

"I know you're not a clown. That's never what you have been. Show yourself."

I locked eyes, and I saw the edges of them change as It morphed back to It's original form. Whether I would have seen the spider, or another form, or maybe whatever it truly was, I never found out. I did not let my eyes stray, but walked forwards, held my eyes locked on It. I noticed that It struggled slightly, as though It did not want to be having this staring contest with me, but could not quite break away.

(_Birds came flying from the underground; if you could see it then you'd understand?)_

There was definite power, and exactly where it was coming from, I could not tell, and never really did find out. Maybe it was the song, maybe (probably) from the others, maybe from some other force that I could vaguely feel.

'So you have your words,' It whispered in my mind. I fought back the Deadlights in It's eyes as I listened. 'Now, truly, are they enough?'

"You're not nearly as strong as you think," I said to It. "You're not nearly as strong as any of us thought."

'You little fool. I am immortal. They've tried to kill me before, and twice now. And if they've failed, then why can you succeed?'

"I can get through. They're on my side."

'Are you going to defeat me?' It mocked.

"If I must," I replied. I realized, however, that I could not kill It. While it was feasibly possible, although Its powers had flared up to an incredible amount of power, if I killed It now, then I would just as surely be killing Bill and the others.

I was caught for a second, thinking, turning it over in my mind. I could kill It now…or I could save the others.

Before, Bill had nearly single-handedly killed It, drawing solely off of his own power. Now, I had not only my own power, but the combined strength of each of the Losers; enough to match any extra strength that It may have gained. If I killed it now, then I would have been left weak and defenseless, but with nothing to defend myself against anyways. I would have been left lost in the sewers, but if I stuck around long enough, then I would have snapped back to my own time eventually, anyways. Nothing to worry about.

On the other hand, if I went in to save them, then I would have had to leave It alive, at least temporarily. And any amount of time leaving It alive could only result in It growing stronger…maybe leaving It enough time to get to It's own safe place.

I wondered how the others would react; what their opinions would be if they had been there. Bill would have almost certainly given himself up to kill It. But the others? Beverly or Eddie? Possibly, probably just because they knew as well as I that Bill would have. But Stan? Mike? I just didn't know.

All these thoughts flipped through my mind in seconds, as though they had been waiting, fully formed, for me to stumble upon them. And then, one last thought, one that helped me decide:

'Save yourself first, your friends next.'

The voice of the Turtle. I was to save them, because without them, there could be no hope. Because if they had not grown up, if they had not lived to do so, then the original one that they had almost killed would heal…grow…feed…and It's children would stay, and feast on the future. They would not have to leave, would not come back so fast that time warped back. This reality would cease to exist, making all of this meaningless, anyways.

So I left It alive, not even bothering to try and kill It. Instead, I held It at bay while I dove, again, into the Deadlights. And this time, I was going in to save them.


	43. 3,16

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

This time was different from the last. The Deadlights were the same, yes, but they weren't in the portals that they had been in before. Somehow, the Deadlights here were more…retractable. They were stuck before, but here, I could pull them out. It's eyes were different.

I felt my physical body immobilizing, and I could sense It's body (whatever it may have been) doing the same. We both left for the Deadlights to do battle, transcending like a pair of ice skaters, unwillingly dependant on each other's energy to reach this height.

It attacked me first, but I parried, and continued to do nothing but block Its blows and search for my friends.

I noted, with growing despair, just how fucking _huge_ the Deadlights were. My mind was too preoccupied with the fight to even attempt to reach out for them, any of them. I wondered if they were trying to reach out to me, but realized that even if they were, it was doubtful that they would be able to reach me, anyways. I was fully engaged in battle.

I realized dimly that this was much different then what Bill had described his battle as being. I wondered why in the back of my mind, but shoved the thought aside, forcing myself to concentrate fully on the fight.

A parry here; a blow there. I was careful to not give it my all. It had to stay alive. I felt that the strength that I had obtained from many sources could have easily killed It. However, I was having trouble finding a happy medium: leaving It alive, yes, but also hitting It with enough force to hurt.

Eventually, the Deadlights started to flicker, and the lights started to dim, as though they were running lower and lower. While the leave from the strange lighting was a relief, I worried that I would not be able to find them, or that this place would turn to Otherspace.

I stopped for a second to wonder where I had gotten that word, Otherspace, but It threw another attack, and I was back in the battle for a few more minutes.

It was injured, and badly. I wasn't in much better shape myself. As if by consent, we both ran away from each other. It, to heal itself (so I assumed), and I to run, to find the others.

I cast my mind out, trying to find them, moving incredibly fast; at the speed of sound.

I saw a looming shape far in the distance. I was moving so fast that I could easily investigate it and be on my way in a matter of seconds, so I allowed myself the liberty of checking it out.

I _was_ curious.

As I drew nearer, I realized that I was actually quite a bit further away then I had originally thought. This was not a problem of distance, which could be covered in a few more seconds, but one of size. As I drew nearer, it seemed to grow larger and larger. Eventually, it took on familiar proportions.

I gasped as I realized what it was. I never would have guessed that this would have ended up in the Deadlights.


	44. 3,17

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

The turtle gazed at me through mildly shell-shocked eyes. Apparently, Maturin was just as surprised to be here as I was to see him here.

'How did you get here?' I asked him. I was not as daunted as his size as I had been the first time, but it still was slightly overwhelming.

'Ah suppose ah could ask you the same question, child.'

Yes, I had forgotten! All my plans, thoughts, they were halted in their tracks as Maturin talked. He drove out everything else; his voice was all encompassing.

Still, though, I felt a sense of pride. I had come a long way since I had last spoken to him.

'You were supposed to get rid o' the Deadlights. You was supposed tah _kill_ the other.'

My feelings of pride and accomplishment faded. He was right; that _was_ why I was sent here. However, after he stopped talking, I remembered why I had not killed It, even when presented with the chance.

'If I killed It, whatever It is, then I would have killed your original seven. And you said-'

'Nevah you mind what ah said. These here Deadlights, well, they's stronger then I thought 't first.'

'If you die,' I asked, 'Does everything else die with you?'

'I surely don't know, child. I ain't nevah done the dyin' act.'

'I'm going to save them, first,' I said. 'I'll…I'll kill It later. I can't kill them, too. They're my friends.'

I didn't know if I was killing everyone and everything by running from my duties, but I knew that I couldn't help the Turtle before I helped my friends. I knew he could take care of himself, however, I was worried about the Losers, mainly Stan, because of his steadily growing intimate connection with the Deadlights.

'I'm sorry,' I added. I sped off, searching for them before Maturin could respond, amazed at my own guile. I had just abandoned a god! I was surely going to feel the repercussions for that one later…but for now, there was the search.

It might have taken days, months, or years to find them had I not been moving so fast. As it was, however, I saw them in seconds. They were standing in a circle, holding hands, and I saw that they were sending out energy. So that's where I had been getting the strength, after all.

I landed on the outside, and they broke apart to form a group instead of any particular shape. Bill stood at the front.

He smiled and nodded, and I nodded too, as though in agreement.

'I knocked It down a few notches,' I informed him.

'I know,' he said. 'I think we helped.'

'I think you did, too.'

'You know a way out?'

'I think I do, actually. I can show you.'

We linked hands, and I showed them where I had come in, but stopped before I left.

'I can't leave just yet.'

'Why not?' Ben asked.

'It's not dead. I couldn't kill It, not until you all left, anyways.'

'Can we help?' Mike offered.

'If It dies while you all are in here,' I said, 'then you are going to die, too. You need to get out of here.'

'And what about you?' Beverly asked. 'Aren't you going to die, too?'

'I don't think it matters,' I said. 'I'm going to snap back pretty soon. I'm the only one of us who is really safe.'

'_Are_ you safe?' Eddie asked.

I paused, seriously thought about the question for a few seconds. I honestly didn't know if I was going to be safe, but I still considered.

'When I get out,' I said, 'Send me your strength. Like you've been doing. I'll be alright.'

'So is this goodbye?' Beverly asked, a sad smile on her face.

'It don't-' Richie began, was cut off.

'Yes,' I said firmly, trying to hid my own sadness, knowing that it was not working. 'It is.'

We stood outside of the exit for several quiet minutes; none of them really wanted to leave. Stan broke the silence.

'It was nice having you with us,' he said to me. 'It was fun to be with you. But I have to go now. I can't stand being here any longer.' Stan stood awkwardly at the exit for a few more seconds, as though he were waiting for something, or wanted to do something more. I walked up to him, and hugged him. It was not something I was accustomed to doing (I had only gracelessly received them in my old life), nor was it something that he was accustomed to receiving. However, it was not awkward at all. I held him at arm's length.

'Goodbye, Stan,' I said. Something strange happened then: the song that might have saved me, "Speed of Sound," suddenly tore through my head, traveled in a wave down my arms, and I felt or sensed it going into Stan. I wondered (without knowing exactly why) if it would be enough.

'Goodbye,' he said. He half-smiled and walked out of the portal.

And this was the signal to us: we were done. We couldn't be whole again. It was a signal that it was time to move on, time to leave; to let go.

'Sara,' Eddie said, stepping forwards. 'You…you've saved my life. I don't know how…'

'Don't worry about it,' I said. 'I think, in a way, you've saved mine, too.'

'You all have,' I said, now addressing them all. 'I don't know what I would have done, just staying at home with…with that. I think I would have gone crazy.'

'Goodbye, Eddie,' I said, now addressing him again. I hugged him.

'Goodbye,' he said. I let him go, and he went through the portal to join Stan.

'Don't go, missus Scawlet!' Richie cried, dropping to his knees. 'Don't leave this'ere black boy all alone 'ere!'

'I'd forgotten about that voice,' Beverly commented quietly.

I didn't say anything, and waited for Richie to stand up again. I didn't want for our parting to be like this, like the rest of his voices: fake.

'I'm going to miss you,' he said seriously, almost starting over with his goodbye completely.

'I'll miss you, too,' I said. 'Maybe we'll see each other again?'

'Not fo' a while,' he said. 'Not fo' a very, very long tahm, ah don't thank.'

'Goodbye, Richie,' I said, hugging him.

'Goodbye,' he said as he returned the embrace. And then he was gone; he was off into the portal.

And then, Mike was there.

'You…you've been cool.' he said. 'You're a cool person. I'm glad I could've met you.'

'You wouldn't have been a loser, had you been in my time,' I said.

'I'm glad that things are the way they are,' he said placidly. 'I wouldn't have changed it.'

We hugged, and he was gone.

Beverly, I knew, was next.

We watched each other for a second, and hugged. No words were passed until she was about to leave.

'You are the coolest person I know,' I said to her.

'Thanks,' She said. 'You're pretty cool yourself. I'm going to miss having you around.'

'I think you're pretty lucky to be around all these guys all the time,' I confided to her, speaking quietly, not letting Bill or Ben hear.

Beverly smiled and nodded, looking them over. She stepped back to the portal.

'Goodbye,' she said.

'See yah,' I answered back. I didn't think until later that my customary parting response would not fit here and now. I wouldn't see her again.

Ben, once Beverly was gone, came to me.

'It was great having you around,' I said to him.

He seemed surprised by this. He swallowed nervously, and glanced back towards the portal where Beverly had been lingering just a second ago.

'It was nice being with you too,' he said, his voice nervous and somewhat formal. 'It was nice having a friend like you.' There was a slight emphasis placed on the word "friend."

I hugged him, and ruffled his hair playfully.

'Hey, loosen up, okay? We're all friends here.'

He nodded again, and actually did seem a bit more at ease.

'Goodbye, Ben,' I said.

'Goodbye,' he returned, and left.

I turned to Bill to say goodbye.

'Bill, I-'

'Come on,' he interrupted, grabbing my hand whisking me off to where we could both feel that It was.


	45. 3,18

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

'Bill!' I said. 'What the hell are you doing?'

'We're going to take it down,' he said. 'I'm going to help. I don't care if I have to die to do it.'

'If you try this, then you probably _are_ going to die,' I protested.

'Well, alright then.'

'Bill-'

'Sara, _let me come._'

I shrunk away from his voice, which was now so powerful that it scared me.

'Alright,' I said. Maybe the only thing I could have said.

'Then come on!'

We raced through the Deadlights, although not as fast; not at the speed of sound. No, that was with Stan, sent to try and save him. Nonetheless, we found it.

It was fading, becoming one with its Deadlights.

I grew ready to attack, but then I glanced to my right, and saw Bill standing next to me. I sighed and waited for his orders. But he and I were thinking on the same wavelength. He ran in and attacked it without a backwards glance to see if I was following.

(Aim with the eye)

I watched him, and almost ran in to help.

(Shoot with the mind)

I shot off a ball of hatred to It at a suicidal speed. It was something real and very deadly.

(Kill with the heart)

My mind-bullet struck, and it was crippled, maybe dying. I then joined Bill, and with it crippled, it was a simple task to bring it down.

There was much more to killing it than just the physical blows that he and I landed, but it was all that I can remember now. I had hoped that my tale would be more fully recorded before this would happen, but its spell is working much faster now.

I have only the vaguest memories now of killing it, of the Deadlights starting to loop and swoon wildly while Bill quickly winked out to go back without ever saying good-bye. I turned and found a door… and I walked through it.

And now, the memories return. Its spell could only work for so long; could only cover so much.

I expected to hear my mom calling me as I had heard (distant and echo-ey) in my brief lapse of time when I thought I was going to snap back, but there wasn't anything. It was 10:09 when I had left…and judging by the sun's position, it still was.

"Son-of-a-bitch," I said quietly. The arrow that had struck the door full-on was still lying in the dirt, but the top was still clean, as though it had only been lying there for a few minutes, instead of the week or two that I was gone.

I picked up the broken arrow. With the last of my mind-powers, I reached for my memories, and copied it down.

When I look over these pages, especially the ones at the beginning, I see that I don't remember any of it at all. It makes sense, and it fits into the story…but it could have well happened to someone else. When this happens, I pick up the arrow, and just sit in a revere for a while. I've tried the magic that I had found at Derry, but it's gone now. I can't feel it, except for what I've fused into the arrow. It's all that's left, and all that convinces me that this is real, and not just a dream.

I've had to keep three copies of this at a time. My first copy that I started, handwritten, somehow flew into the fire a few months ago, and each of the computers that have had it saved on them would more often then not meet with mysterious deaths…or the story, my story, would just be gone from them. However, it's finished now. Maybe this computer will crash too. But once it's finished, I guess I put it away. For good.

The end


End file.
